


Treasure

by ThisWasInevitable



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Campaign: Amnesty (The Adventure Zone), Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Flirting, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Rating May Change, TAZ Amnesty, Trans Duck Newton, Vaginal Sex, indruck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27406804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasInevitable/pseuds/ThisWasInevitable
Summary: Sir Duck Newton of Kepler is prepared for a lot of things. What he is NOT prepared for is being carried off by a fucking dragon.Indrid Cold, cursed dragon and seer, knows he will soon make the acquaintance of a new human. But can the two of them even get long, let alone face the mysteries and challenges the future has in store?
Relationships: Indrid Cold/Duck Newton
Comments: 21
Kudos: 82





	1. Sir Duck

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a fill I wrote for Promptober that many people wanted me to expand on.

Knights are well-prepared, the way those in charge of the kingdom's wellbeing ought to be. Prepared for monsters bursting from the woods or dropping from the sky, prepared to protect citizens from harm, prepared to guide royalty through all manner of perils. 

What Duck Newton, knight of the realm of Kepler, was not prepared for was being carried off by a _fucking dragon_.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

The path that leads him into the dragon’s lair begins two weeks prior. It’s a standard meeting, all knights and assorted heroic professions assembled in a stone hall on the outskirts of the palace. Minerva, Duck’s mentor, sits with him to her left and Leo, another knight, to her right. 

Assignments are handed out one by one; a mission to the coast, escorting a trio of princesses, dealing with an infestation of trolls in the wildwood. When they call Duck’s name he straightens, hoping no one sees the rough sketch of a garden plan he’s been working on for the past forty-five minutes. 

“Sir Newton, you will be guarding a caravan of treasure across the border, through the Arach Mountains.”

“Right. Uh, is that it?”

“Yes.” The clerk, Dewey, looks at him, “Is something wrong?”

“No, uh, just seems kinda simple is all, don’t the castle treasurer usually send his own men for those missions?”

“This delivery is of the utmost importance, Duck Newton; indeed, the safety of the kingdom depends on it going according to plan.” Minerva claps a hand on his shoulder, “and it will play handily to your skills.”

He shrugs, nods, and takes his map and instructions, and reads them over as the remainder of the attendees are briefed on their tasks. As is traditional he, Minerva, Leo, Sarah, and a handful of other knights go out for dinner after the meeting. When Sarah asks what he’s been up to, he smiles.

“Been thinkin about gettin a cat. Juno’s tabby had a litter of kittens, and she offered me one. Be nice to have some company in the house, plus it’ll keep the mice outta my kitchen in winter.”

“I would be cautious about accepting such a responsibility, Duck.”

He looks over the rim of his glass inquisitively at Minerva, “Why? Ain’t like I don’t know how to look after animals.”

“I do not doubt your capabilities, it is more your availability that may be an issue. After all, you never know when your destiny may present itself.”

“Guess I’ll think it over.” He glances at Leo, the older man mumbling something into his wine. Ah well, Juno said she wasn’t giving any kittens away until they were weaned, so he can decide when he gets back. 

The next week and a half is spent on preparing for his journey, his instructions stating he should pack for a long stint away and with an eye towards the often hostile climate of the higher mountain passes. 

When he arrives at the caravan, it’s only one coach waiting for him. It’s made of sturdy wood, covered in ornate red markings, and enclosed almost completely, save for the door at the back to allow the loading of cargo. Opening it to deposit his pack, he gawps at the amount of gold and gems shining in the morning sun.

“How the fuck are we gonna get this over the pass? It’s gonna be too damn heavy for the horses to manage on that kind of ground.” He calls to the driver, shutting the door. 

“We’ll manage. Now climb on so we can get moving.”

For two days and nights, the journey is unremarkable. Duck loves this patch of woods, but it’s familiar, and so fades into the background as they travel. On the third night, they reach the foothills, tule fog curling around the wheels and obscuring the sky. They bid each other goodnight, Duck sleeping inside the coach at the foot of the treasure while the driver takes the first watch. 

A shudder awakens him, no doubt the other man knocking on the door to trade off. He keeps a hand on his weapon as he opens the door and hops out into the foggy darkness. The foggy, quiet, darkness. 

A moment before he calls out to see if the driver needs help, he rounds the coach to find it horseless. The drivers pack is gone, and when he kneels down there are two sets of hoofprints just visible in the damp earth. He would have heard a fight, and the horses are the kind that would fuss if any other than their handler tried to unhitch them. 

He’s abandoned. Worse, he’s stranded.

“What the fuck?” He stands, turning in a circle, “what the everlovin fuck?”

The fog offers no answers. Weighing his options, his best chance is to wait out the night here and get his exact bearings in the morning light, and head for the nearest town on foot. With his chosen strength, and a little ingenuity, he should be able to drag the coach with him.  
A rhythmic whooshing descends on him, and he turns his face to sky to search for the source. He can’t make out a damn thing, but he’s certain those are wingbeats, and he has zero desire to be out in the open where whatever is making them can see him. 

Climbing back into the coach, he bars the door and waits, gauging the size of what’s coming by how loud the beat grows with each instant. It’s big, bigger than any bird or gryphon he’s encountered. It may even be big enough to-

The entire vehicle groans as pressure hits the roof and side walls all at the same time, wood creaking as Duck’s stomach churns, his body registering leaving the ground even as his eyes are left wondering what the hell is happening. 

There’s only one creature in the realm who could lift a heavy carriage like it was a teacup and fly off with it. A dragon, the rarest of the rare beasts, one many go their lives without seeing.

Just his fucking luck. 

His fears are confirmed when, after landing and being rolled what feels like a few hundred yards, there’s a grinding slide of a shutting door. He undoes the latch and opens the door to discover some sort of sorting room, if the clank of metal and tumble of objects is any indication. 

The only reason he can even see shapes is that a handful of items in the room glow, and by that paltry light he digs through the carriage in search of his sword, Beacon. It’s a talking sword that Duck wishes would be silent, hence why it was coiled while Duck slept, as that storage method keeps it silent. When the cargo shifted during the flight, Beacon got lost in the jumble. It figures, the one time that obnoxious sword’s even more obnoxious voice would be helpful is the time Duck was careful to shut him up.

Abandoning his hunt, he switches his attention to the walls, feeling along them for indication of a light; if he can see, he can find a weapon or, better yet, a means of escape. After a full circuit of the room, he can’t even tell where the fucking door is. 

That problem is resolved and immediately replaced with a much worse one when a stone panel swings open, torchlight spilling past the creature in the doorway; a large, black-scaled dragon appears, obsidian claws scratching on the ground as it advances on him. 

“You know, I was half convinced there was something wrong with my foresight, But no, there is indeed a human in my storage room. How on Earth did you even get here?” The voice has a lilt to it, rather than the grow Duck expects, as the dragon takes in Ducks clothes, the insignia on his chest, and his armor. Red eyes narrow, “ And you’re a defender of Kepler at that. Tell me, oh brave knight, did you slip into my home hoping to slay me in my sleep?”

“No, I was in the goddamn carriage when you just lifted the whole fuckin thing up and flew off!”

“And what were you doing in a carriage meant for treasure alone?” The dragon cocks his head, light glinting off two silver horns. 

“Guardin it.” 

“Against what, exactly? And what were you to do to any attackers?” The dragon rises onto two legs, crossing its arms. 

“Uhhhhhhh, um, not slay it, um. Fuck. Look,their directions weren’t real clear. They just told me I was headed for a royal guest and that the treasure not gettin there would be a diplomatic disaster.”

The glowing red eyes widen with understanding Duck does not share. “So that’s what they told you? A pity” The dragon steps closer, and Duck refuses to flinch when hot breath ruffles his hair, “I was hoping they would be truthful with mine.”

“With your what?” Duck looks down just as a black clawed hand is held out to him.

“I will explain in a moment. This is one of the colder parts of my lair, and I would rather have this discussion somewhere warm. Come.” He flattens his palm and Duck, energized by the thought of being somewhere with more escape routes, sits down in it. The dragon carries him out into the hallway; it’s actually smaller than he assumed, less than twenty feet from his head to the tip of his tail. But it’s terrifically strong, and he has no desire to find out how easily it can crush him. 

“What is your name?” One eye regards him with a glint of...something. He can’t put a name to expression, only that it’s appreciative rather than angry as it scans over his body. 

“Sir Duck Newton. It’s a nickname.”

“It is nice to meet you, Duck Newton. I am Indrid Cold. And this is the parlor.” The dragon sets him down near an immense fireplace at the center of a circular room, embers glowing warmly. Duck stays standing as Indrid lays on a large pile of furs and pillows, eyes fixed firmly on Duck. 

“Since you are about to ask, my room and horde is just through there. Contrary to common belief, dragons do not keep their most precious items in the front room where anyone can take them. You may see the horde later, if you like, I am rather proud of it.”

“Uh, no thanks, I’ll need to be headin back to town. Don’t suppose you’ll let me have that carriage back? I’d prefer not to get chewed out for fuckin up simple mission.” His hope is that if he’s polite and acts as if the dragon has no reason to keep him around, he will just let him go.

“Ah yes, about that.” Indrid taps a claw on the floor, “you see, this is terribly awkward. That carriage was meant for me. As were you.”

“How could-”

“-I tell? The red markings. They are Draconic letters, not just random patterns. I knew you would be arriving soon, but not the exact date. I was preoccupied using my visions to watch for danger as I flew, and thus did not realize you were in the carriage until we returned.” He tilts his snout towards the floor, “I had hoped to have some warning, as I wanted everything to be perfect when my human arrived.”

“Why do you keep sayin that I’m yours, what do you need a human for?” The obvious answer occurs to him and he rapidly steps back, “Oh fuck, am I fuckin dinner or somethin’?” 

“Nono, nothing of the kind. In many ways you are the opposite. You see, it has long been a tradition for kingdoms along the Arach Mountain Range to send a knight to act as an assistant to any resident dragons. It is an act of goodwill, to show that the dragons and humans view each other as neighbors, not enemies. Since our numbers have dwindled, it is not as well known a custom. And” the tapping claw is back, “When there were more dragonborns residing here and fewer true dragons, there was another, ah, _component_ of the exchange.”

“But you ain’t a dragonborn, so we don’t gotta worry about that part?” He crosses his fingers in hope.

A sigh, “Technically I _am_ dragonborn; long story painfully short, I was blamed for something I did not do and was cursed to remain like this for eternity. No one outside of a few trusted friends knows that. So your kingdom assumed I could still take my more human form. Which means they chose you for the, ah, the second purpose as well. You are meant to be my, ah, my” gold blossoms on the scales of his face, “consort.

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, the dragon's embarrassed tone makes it clear what kind of “consorting” he means. Then Duck is once again backing away, looking for something to put between himself and the dragon.

“Nope, nope, no fuckin way, this ain’t happen, this can’t be happenin, there’s gotta be a mistake.”

“Oh dear, you are frightened.”

“I’m fucking terrified! Who wouldn’t be?!”

Indrid moves towards him, stops when Duck tenses up “I promise, you have nothing to fear. Is it not clear that the arrangement means I will not eat or otherwise harm you?” Indrid blinks at him, perplexed. 

“And the part where I’m supposed to be the start of some fuckin dragon harem or some shit is supposed to calm me down?” Duck’s voice echoes off the walls. 

“Firstly, you would be the one and only consort to me. Second, and more importantly, you did not let me finish my explanation. While that is the misconception your kingdom is under, I will under no circumstances expect you to fulfill it. Your duties here will be as if I was born a true dragon. You will aid in small household tasks, assist with security, and do things where having small hands is helpful. That is all” Indrid is frustratingly calm, as if Duck is the ridiculous one for being afraid of this whole situation and the implications of his new role. 

“Great, just fuckin great, so I’m your servant now.” Duck rubs his forehead, as if that might make this all clearer. 

“Nothing of the sort. You may do tasks, yes, but I must do the same. We are sharing this home, so we must each participate in its maintenance. So no, you are not my servant. Although you are part of my horde, given how I acquired you. Anything I carry off and deem worthy is technically my horde. 

Duck no longer gives a shit about being eaten, and turns all his anger on the dragon as he yells, “I’m not a fuckin necklace or somethin you dipshit!” 

“You are not an object, if that is what you fear.” Confusingly, Indrid’s voice softens as he creeps closer, “I, ah, my horde is made up of that which I value or find pleasing. You can be both those things as a fully independent human. You are a treasure, and I will treat you as one. I will bring you the finest silks, jewels, food works of art, whatever your heart desires you shall have, for everything that is mine is now yours. Indeed, you may be that which I treasure most; just looking at you makes me happier than any trinket or possession ever could, and I dearly wish to curl around you and keep you safe.”

Chills run along Duck’s skin, and he notices the embers have gone out, meaning the only light is the red glow of Indrid’s eyes, pinning the human in place. Vibrations move cross the stone, jarring him from the unbidden, alarmingly tempting image of Indrid caging him beneath a claw to keep him near.

“Hold the fuck on, are you, uh, purrin? Just from the idea of me bein here?”

Indrid blinks several times, shakes his head, “Yes, it seems I was. I, ah, I apologize for all I just said it, it sort of came up unbidden. I wonder if that is why they chose you, if someone knew that you would be the most appealing human I ever laid eyes on, that you would spark some desire in my mind.” Indrid grins.

Duck tries not to flattered, tries to focus on figuring out what the fuck he’s supposed to do now, but it’s hard with the way Indrid is looking at him, all affectionate curiosity and teeth like kitchen knives. 

His anger wavers, “Look, Indrid, I don’t mean no offense, but this is all super fuckin weird and I just...I don’t fuckin understand why they sent me and not, I dunno, a princess? Ain’t that traditional?”

Indrid cocks his head, “Why would they send princesses? They are trained to inherit and run the kingdom. Knights as far more expendable.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I did not say that I agree. You asked me for their reasoning. Did no one ever suggest you might be training for a specific role as a knight?”

He freezes. Then so much anger hits him at once he has to sit down on the cold floor, even though the dragon nudges a human sized chair his way. 

“ _That’s_ why they were so fuckin determined to get me to accept my destiny and keep me focused on it and only it. Fuck, they made it seem like I was trainin’ to do somethin great, to protect people, and all the while they knew they were just gonna ship me off without warnin! ‘Oh, sorry Duck, you don’t get to have a life of your own, we gotta train you up so you can go be a fuckin dragon toy!”

“That was rather uncalled for.”

“Well what the fuck else am I gonna call it? You keep talkin’ about dressin me up, sleepin with me, you, you seem to think I ain’t no more than somethin’ you get to look at it.”

“I think no such thing” the narrow tip of his tail thrashes, “I am trying to be hospitable. I have not had a human visit me for more than a few hours before, so forgive me for a few missteps. And I am not the one who misled you about your destiny, so kindly direct that anger elsewhere.” The last few words come out in a growl. 

Duck’s so pissed he growls right back.

“Fine. I’m gonna walk my ass back to Kepler and give ‘em all a piece of my mind.” He spins on his heel, only for Indrid to zip in front of him. 

“No, do not do that. It is considered a literal declaration of war.”

“......are you fuckin _kiddin me_?”

“No. If you go back, they will think I did not accept their token of peace, and will decide that means we are at war. Now, please move away from the door.” Indrid tries to scoot him backwards with his tail. Duck slaps the scales, making the dragon yelp.

“You only did that in one future!”

“Surprise, your new toy don’t like bein touched. I can move my own damn self. And I plan on movin it somewhere I can get some privacy.”

Indrid points down the center most tunnel, “The third door on the right is yours.”

“That feels like a trap.”

“It is a study. Equipped for humans to stay in, including an attached bedroom and washroom”

Well, it beats sleeping on top of a dragon. 

He turns without another word, and as the room disappears from view he hears the slow slide of scales on stone, heading the other direction.

\----------------------------------------------

Indrid reaches his bedroom and clonks his head into the door.

There was no way around that confrontation. The moment Duck Newton asked for an explanation, there was no future where he was not upset by what Indrid told him.And Indrid ws not about to start their relationship out with a lie. 

Indrid does not blame him at all for his outburst, and he’s quite angry with whoever in Kepler misled him for so long. Nor does he blame him for his fear at Indrid’s initial word choice. What human in their right mind would want to play consort to a creature like him?

None of that changes how excited he was when he was informed he’d soon be getting a human companion. He has visitors and friends of all kinds, but he’s lived alone ever since the disaster that led to his transformation. He was so looking forward to having someone to talk with, to get to know, to be gentle and kind to, something a dragon his size is not given many chances to do. 

There’s a much smaller horde in the corner, full of items he thought a human might enjoy. Dragonborns hold the custom of giving those they wish to charm (in platonic or romantic ways) gifts and finery as a show of goodwill. Indrid didn’t look into the future to see what his human would be like, as he wanted it to be a surprise, to get to know them organically. So he collected an enormous variety of items in order to have the best chance of a suitable gift. 

His eyes keep drifting back to the red cloak woven with gold and the green shirt tailored to accentuate muscles. Duck would no doubt look remarkable in them. Goodness, he’s seen all sorts of humans, yet ten minutes in Duck’s presence is enough to get him purring. Eyes like mismatched gemstones, dark hair, a body begging to be nestled up too...

No.

The human wants to be alone, wants nothing to do with Indrid. If Indrid is to make him feel at home here, he must abide by that desire. He sighs, curling around his horde. Hopefully the way forward will become clear after some rest. 

\-------------------------------------------

Back in Kepler, the city is quiet, everyone from the kings to farm hands asleep in their beds. 

Everyone, that is, except the shadow slipping from a tower window and hurrying into the night.


	2. Dragon Favors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid gives some gifts. Duck goes shopping.

Indrid begins his morning snout-deep in the carriage from Kepler. Duck must have carried some belongings with him, and the least Indrid can do is find them for him. At last he finds the satchel, half-buried under a pile of necklaces that are of little interest to him. Why did they feel the need to ply him with trinkets when Duck is a far finer prize than any of them?

Next stop is the river by the western exit so he can skewer an unfortunate Salmon with a claw and gather berries from some hardy mountain brambles. Five minutes later, he returns for another fish because he burnt the first one (and ate it in penance for scaring the human yesterday).

After setting the satchel and food by Duck’s door, he knocks once on the wooden door (it was a room designed for his dragonborn form, with a doorknob and ornate carvings) then slinks away. Comes back some hours later to find empty dishes. 

Heartened, he hurries into his horde, digging through the pile of items he chose for his potential human companion. Clothing seems the best choice, as all humans need it and Duck brought little of it with him. Indrid is already worried he may not have what he requires to stay warm. The knight favors simple clothing, so he chooses shirts and skirts, tunics and trousers, coats and cowls, and a handful of what he is ninety percent sure are human underclothes, all in colors he is certain will suit Duck; rich greens, golds, coppers, the odd splash of blue or black. All made from the finest materials, of course.

Indrid leaves them outside the door along with dinner. They’re still there in the morning. 

He does his best not to be too glum. Laying on the bed, tail limp and scales feeling rather dull, he gets another idea. Perhaps a smaller gift is in order. He locates three tins of multi-purpose make-up powder. When he could still take his other form, he dusted crushed gems on his face when he wanted to perk up (or to impress someone). It could be that Duck does the same. 

The tins glint in the torchlight the next morning. Maybe the human would like entertainment instead. The study is full of books, but maybe Duck prefers to pass the time with his hands. He leaves some paints and paper along with dinner, claws crossed that they make the human happy. 

\------------------------------------------------------------

Duck stares at the ceiling, lit by the yellow glow of the lamp. It looks the same as it has the last three days. Grey. Stony. Inescapable. 

A rap at the door signals dinner. Thank fuck the dragon has been feeding him, otherwise he’d have no idea how much time has passed. Now if only he’d stop leaving presents along with the food each night. 

What is he trying to do, win Duck over? Does he honestly think a few nice things make up for Duck’s entire world being ripped from under him? Duck’s terrified that if he takes anything but the meals, Indrid will see it as a sign of, of,...

Look, he’s not entirely sure what it would signal, and the dragon made it clear he wouldn’t demand anything of Duck beyond some household cooperation. But Duck is through taking things at face value. 

He waits until the slide of claws and scales is no longer audible, then opens the door. Sitting next to the plate is a strange glass box filled with soil. Atop it sit three packets of seeds and two crystals. Picking it up for a closer look, he finds a note beneath it. A very, very big note. 

_Attach the crystals to those two stands on either end of the container. They will light up, mimicking the sun so the plants will grow._

It would be nice to have something alive in the room with him. 

He grabs his dinner plate with his free hand, other arm wrapped protectively around the gift, and shuts the door. 

\--------------------------------------------

Indrid decides that if the latest gift is still there, he will let it be the last. It occurred to him, as he curled up to sleep last night, that the human may not see the offerings as an attempt at hospitality, but an attempt to curry favor. Or worse, an unwanted romantic advance. 

But the space in front of the door is empty. This progress both pleases him and gives him an idea. After checking the future to be sure his visit will not anger or alarm Duck, he knocks on the door, opting after a moment to go on all fours so as not to tower too much over the human. 

“Yeah?” The drawl sounds tired more than hostile.

“Good morning. I, ah, was wondering if you would like to see the gardens. They may be to your liking, and no doubt you wish to see the sun. You, ah, that is, I can lead you to them and then leave you be, you do not need to be around me if you do not wish to.”

The door creaks open, and Duck peers out. His hair is mussed, he has several days worth of stubble, and his eyes narrow with cautious curiosity. 

“How can you garden in a cave?”

“Let me show you?” 

The human nods and steps into the hall. The walk is silent and awkward, Indrid counting down the seconds until eh sees the light of the clearing. It’s not much, about an acre and a half at most, a late summer sun shines on it unobstructed and a mountain stream runs beneath it, allowing him to grow a modest garden. He finds it all very soothing, hopes the knight will as well. 

Duck’s entire face lights up as he takes it in. Indrid preens a bit and answers the question he sees coming. 

“I believe when the mountains formed, some geological anomaly caused this area to not come together as the rest of the range did. Hence the lack of a cave roof.”

“Did you grow all these?” Duck kneels down, radiant in the sunlight, examining a pumpkin plant just beginning to show fruit. 

“Indeed. I grow some for medicine and spell purposes, and some for food. Larger plants tend to work best for food, in that I can harvest more easily and get more out of it. Hence the many types of squash and melons. But, you will notice a great deal of unplanted patches. If you, ah wish to garden here with me, I can procure whatever you need.”

Duck grins, wandering a few yards ahead, gaze sweeping from soil to sky and back again, “Hell yeah. Wonder if I could even get a tree or two to take. I’ll have to study the soil and the sun a bit before I know what I need.”

Indrid bows, “Take as long as you desire. You can find your way back?”

The human turns fully to him, glances down at the dirt more bashfully this time, “You can, uh, stay if you want. Wouldn't mind the company.”

Not expecting that reply, Indrid can only think to bow once more before settling into his favorite sunny spot, body curving around the starmallow bushes. 

Duck takes in his position, “Y’know, you’re a real different shape from what I expected.”

“I am about as serpentine as my kind can be while still being able to walk upright. My friend Barclay once said I looked as if I was a noodle that sprouted legs and wings.”

Duck giggles, “Yeah, that’s about right.”

“I will have you know I am a very dignified noodle.” He flicks his tail imperiously.

Duck laughs harder at his tone, then his face turns serious, “Is this what you’ve been tryin to do with the gifts?”

“How do you mean?” He cocks his head.

“Have you been trying to make me feel better?”

“I have been trying to show you that you are welcome, and see to it that you were not bored.”

The human groans softly, rubbing a hand across his face. Then he meets the dragon’s eyes, “Indrid I, uh, I wanna apologize for how I acted. I know you don’t mean no harm. It was just a lot to take in, and then realizin everyone had been lyin to me, rather than lettin me make a real choice about my destiny. And it’s been hard not to assume you would lie to me too because, well, a bunch of people who were way closer to me did, so why would you be any different? But I’m starting to see I had that bit wrong. It wasn’t fair of me to go runnin off to that conclusion when all you were tryin to do was cheer me up.”

“I understand, and I do not hold it against you. I want this to be a welcoming home for you, Duck, though I apologize for how my gifts came across. I have no intention of keeping you from other things you love or have trained for; if there are things you wish to do, people you wish to see, you are free to do them. And I foresee us being rather good friends and, hmm, I suppose collaborators is the right word. If you need more space, I will give it, but I would also like the chance for us to get better acquainted.”

Duck picks up a handful of earth, rubbing it between his fingers, and when he smiles this time it’s meant for Indrid, “Think I’d like that too.”

Indrid watches him as he meticulously studies the plants, checks the path of the sun. 

“Take it you don’t garden as a hobby?”

“No. My own lack of a green thumb followed by my transformation makes it something I only do out of necessity. Do you?”

“Yep. Always tried to have some kind of garden back home, even if quests and such took me away from it. Surprised they didn’t try to talk me out of it same way they did a cat.”

“You wished for a pet?”

The human shrugs, “house got kinda lonely sometimes. Guess I don’t gotta worry about that now.”

“No, as I am here more often than not. It is not wise to reveal this form to the outside world; true dragons are still a source of fear for many. It will…” he smiles, hoping it’s not too toothy, “it will be nice to have you here, to know the cave is not empty. The last time I had any long-term resident, it was a griffin who would not leave. He kept saying he only would if I answered his riddles three.”

“I thought it was sphinxes that did that.”

“It usually is. If I never see that purple menace again, it will be too soon.”

Duck crouches to examine a nearby shrub, “If he does, let me deal with ‘im. Got a pretty good store of riddles and such up here.” He taps his head, “comes in handy on long journeys, and when a troll or somethin is hidin out under a bridge.”

“Have you met many trolls?”

“A few. They’re real rude.”

Indrid puffs out hot air, “If any are ever so in my presence, I will eat them. No one is to be unkind to my dearest human.”

“Uhhhh”

“Hmmm? Oh, OH, I am purring again, I apologize.”

Duck rubs the back of his neck, “Would, uh, would you mind not sayin stuff like that? Or maybe scalin it way back? Makes me feel kinda...odd. You barely even know me; kinda disingenuous to call me your dearest, y’know?”

Indrid wants to argue that Duck is far more incredible than anything else in the mountain, but he sees his point. 

“I will do my best. Sometimes I get a bit ahead on account of my foresight, so things may slip out.”

“S’okay, long as you’re tryin. Uh” the human seems to be searching for something to say, “you always lived here?”

“Yes, though it used to be much smaller, since it only had to accommodate my dragonborn form, with this form arising in times of great crisis. I did once get my head stuck in the kitchen…”

They trade stories about their respective homes and upbringings for the better part of the afternoon, Indrid only retreating inside when the sun passes beyond the cliffs, cutting off the clearing from it’s warmth. While the human stays out, Indrid busies himself with dinner, deciding a platter of cured meat, cheese, and fruit will work best, in case the human only wants to grab some food before going back to his room. 

“Uh, Indrid?” Duck stands in the doorway, wiping his hands on a rag, “you got any human-sized glasses?”

He points to his left, “In there. Any cabinets at human height should have utensils and such that you can use. That lever there opens the icebox.”

“Thanks.” Duck pours himself a glass of spring water, drags a chair over to the table, and waits patiently for Indrid to join him. 

\---------------------------------------

His list of supplies for the garden is just about done, and so massive he feels a little guilty for taking Indrid up on his offer to get everything for him. They’ve agreed to start the search after dinner, checking over Indrid's horde to see if has anything on the list. 

As he heads into the cave, smoke tickles his nose. Given that Indrid cannot breathe fire, and the cave is well ventilated for the ones he builds, this is not a good sign. 

Duck dashes into the kitchen. All the worry rushes from him at once, replaced by laughter that doubles him over. 

Indrid is cursing a rack of burnt toast while soup bubbles on the stove, his claws losing a battle with a large block of cheese. There’s flour on his scales and onion skins stuck to the end of his tail. 

“Wh-what are you try-” another wave of giggles hits him as Indrid chirps in frustration, “how did this go so wrong?”

“I am _trying_ to make french onion soup, because you said it was your favorite, but cooking a single human portion is very stressful.”

“Aww” Duck grins, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, it is done. Sort of. Now for goodness sake, please take this cheese and make it into manageable slices.”

Duck catches the block as Indrid drops it, grabs a knife and gets to work. The soup turns out a bit burnt, but delicious. 

When they enter Indrid’s room an hour later, Duck’s eyes widen. At first glance it looks like the dragon hordes he’s seen in books, coins spilling everywhere, gems worth more than a years pay tossed about. Then the details come to him in a parade of realizations. The metal and stones are pushed to the sides, the center of the horde contains a pile of blankets and pillows, and there are far more paintings than he expected. 

There must be some organization system that’s escaping him, because Indrid moves to one section straight away and starts digging. Duck’s about to join him when a smaller pile in the corner catches his eye.

“This is all the stuff you tried givin’ me.”

“Yes. It, ah, it is customary to gather a horde for one’s companion. If there are things in there you wish to take to your room, or things you know you do not want, you are free to do what you wish with them.”

Duck sits down and works his way through the first third of his horde. The clothes Indrid offered him are still carefully folded, and he sets them aside to take to his room. There’s a heavier cloak and a blanket that he adds as well, followed by a razor and shaving soap.

“Indrid, are there any towels somewhere? Got outta the bath yesterday and found I didn’t have one.”

(The dragon had, after much apologizing for not explaining sooner, shown Duck how to strike two green stones together and toss them into the tub so that the buckets of water he gathered from the streaming passing along the wall would actually be warm).

Indrid already has a towel in hand, sets it and a jar of bath oil down next to the knight. 

In the end, they find several bulbs, a spade and, confusingly, a wheelbarrow in Indrid’s horde, meaning tomorrow they’ll need to search elsewhere for the rest. Indrid insists he knows just the place before bidding Duck goodnight. 

Excitement gets him up and out of bed before the dragon stirs. He starts a kettle, prepares coffee to pour over, and dumps two cups of loose tea into a cheese cloth, which he tosses into a far larger mug. By the time the dragon winds into the kitchen tea with half a hives worth of honey is waiting for him, Duck sipping his coffee and going over his list. The dragon is so sleepy he doesn’t notice at first. 

“Tea's already on the table, ‘Drid.”

“Oh.” He yawns, blinking his red eyes, “thank you.” En route to his seat, he stops and dips his head down, bumping their foreheads together. Then gold appears on his cheeks.

“Apologies, that, that was automatic, it is a way my kind indicate thanks to those we are close to and-”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” He really doesn’t, and that fact surprises him more than the gesture did. 

When it comes time to set off on their errand, Indrid lowers onto all fours. 

“Climb on.”

“Indrid, even if it’s real far I can walk.”

“I do not doubt it, but the trip will be far faster and safer if we fly. You can hold onto the scales beneath my frill.”

Duck hesitates as Indrid helps him up “Frill?”

“It only comes out when I am territorial or very angry. Are you comfortable?”

“Uh huh” Duck already feels a little too far off the ground.

Indrid glances over his shoulder, “Are you frightened?”

“Kinda.”

“Do not worry, my dea-, ah, my Duck. I will fly low and slow.”

In spite of this promise, Duck keeps his eyes shut during take-off, debates keeping them closed. Then Indrid calls excitedly, “look, we are over the jade river.”

So that’s why they flew; the jade river is high up and notoriously hard to ford. Duck peeks over Indrid’s side to see the river curving like a necklace along the center of a peak. The unique make-up of it’s riverbed makes it glow an unearthly, deep green. 

“Holy shit.”

“Lovely, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Wow, hey, look, looklook” Duck points down and to their left, “those are crystal blossom trees bloomin. There’s only three groves of ‘em on this side of the mountains”

“I had no idea they were so rare. I only know they are often guarded by Ferruginous Rocs.”

“You mean like-Oh FUCK”

“Yes, like that one.” Indrid curves swiftly to the east, away from the enormous rust and grey-speckled bird gliding along the tree-tops.

“Huh, always heard Rocs will stake out special types of trees. Folks used to think it was some kind of magical pact, but the goin theory is that the trees attract better prey, so the Rocs end up protecting them and keeping them from being gnawed away."

“Fascinating.”

The rest of the trip passes in an exchange of facts about local wildlife, though really it’s Duck who does most of the talking. He’s so relaxed that the landing is a surprise; he’d forgotten he was in the air. 

Indrid has brought them to the mouth of a massive cave from which spills a bazaar. Above the entrance are draconic letters embossed with gold. Below that is a sign reading “World-Famous Draconic and Human Mercantile. N.C, Proprietor.”

“Indrid! Lovely to see you again, dear boy.” The booming voice belongs to an older man with greying hair and a beard, dressed in an expensive coat and trousers.

“Hello, Ned, nice to see you as well. This is Duck, my….companion. We are here with a rather large shopping list, so he will go with you while I go pay my respects to Boyd.” He glances at Duck with an explanatory air, “It is not polite to visit a fellow dragon without saying hello.”

Indrid weaves between shelves as Ned looks over Duck’s list.

“Mostly garden supplies….hmmm, yes, back here I think, this way good sir.” Ned sets off through a maze of high shelves and low barrels full of every item imaginable.

“Sure you got enough stuff?”

Ned chuckles, “I know it looks excessive, but the goal is to run an establishment in which even the most discerning dragons can find what they seek. You see my boy--ah, here we are, seeds and bulbs--dragons and dragonborns are not mindless hoarders; they have tastes, just like you or I. Why not give them a place where they can browse in peace, while removing the threat of them carrying off things from towns.”

“And paying you for the privilege?”

A shrug, “We also do plenty of bartering. Now, gloves, are you a leather man, silk-”

“I mean gardening gloves, Ned.”

Another chuckle, “Of course. Forgive me, our last visitor was an orc looking for finery for her wife.”

Ned continues regaling him with tails of varying levels of believability until they’ve filled three baskets with supplies. Indrid is waiting for him at the register, talking in a hushed voice with a golden and exceedingly bulky dragon. Both horned heads turn to regard Duck when he sets the baskets down.

“Hell, Cold, you didn’t say yours was a bloody knight. Amazed you been able to sleep.”

“We have an understanding. Besides, that is traditional. We do not all come by our humans because they try to steal from our hordes.”

“Fair enough. Ring ‘em up, Chicane.” 

“Are you certain there is nothing else, nothing for you, Indrid? We have a handful of new paintings, and some lovely new citrine and ruby items.”

Indrid blinks, then quickly darts back through the shelves. As Duck moves to follow him, a massive white rabbit skids to a stop in front of him. Boyd takes one look at it and changes color, fading into the background. 

“Dr. Harris Bonkers, get back here!”

The rabbit makes a dive for the space beneath the counter, only to honk when Duck intercepts him.

“Didn’t think I’d see you around here little bud.”

“Holy shit, Duck!” Lady Aubrey Little, mid-level noblewoman of Kepler, rounds a corner, throwing her arms around the knight, “I was hoping I’d see you again. I was super fucking bummed when they told me you’d been assigned to a dragonborn. Like, they could have at least told me before hand so I coulda said bye.”

“Same.”

“Wait” Aubrey steps back, taking the rabbit when Duck holds him out, “they didn’t tell you where you were going?”

He shakes his head.

“Oh fuck that.” She hands the rabbit off to a blonde woman who comes around the corner, “c’mere.” She hugs him again, keeps hugging him until Indrid returns, setting something Duck can’t see on the counter along with their baskets. 

“Dani, Aubrey, nice to see you both. I thought you were not going to be visiting for awhile.” Indrid bows to both women. 

“That was the plan before someone tried to poison me.”

“WHAT?” All men and dragons say at once.

“Yep, no idea who, but I didn’t stick around to find out. Climbed out the window a few nights ago and haven’t looked back. Which is why” Aubrey taps the counter, staring straight at Boyd, “I need to take a look at your weapon selection. So stop hiding and show me the knives.”

“Right this way” Ned directs the women to his left, “nice talking with you Duck.”

“And come by for dinner soon!” Dani calls with a wave.

After they pay and get on the road (or, rather, in the sky), Indrid explains that he met Aubrey though Dani, who’s half-dragonborn and half nymph, and thus more sympathetic to Indrid’s cursed state. 

Once all the supplies are unloaded, Duck yawns, “Think I’m gonna take a nap before I get started plantin. Got lots of work to do.” 

“I think I shall as well, the sun is rather nice out here.”

Duck turns towards the cave, then stops, “Hey, Indrid?” He steps forward, motions for Indrid to bend down, “thanks for everything.” Then he raises up on his toes, bumping their foreheads together.

The resulting purr follows him all the way to his bed and into his dreams.


	3. Homemaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck swims. Indrid stargazes. Mama gets paid.

“Now, when you say river serpent-” Duck, down to his underwear, scoots away from the edge of the flat stone he’s about to jump from. 

“She’s vegetarian, as far as I can discern. This river is one of her preferred foraging spots, which I wanted you to be aware of so you were not alarmed by her appearance.” Indrid picks up a black stone and starts buffing the scales on his arms. They’re spending their afternoon at the river near the eastern entrance to the cave, a morning in the garden having rendered them both covered in dirt.

Duck glances over the edge of the rock in time to see a shadow slithering upstream, a large head with yellow eyes popping up to pull the leaves from a low hanging branch. No longer afraid of being lunch, he jumps into the water, popping back up to float near the dragon. Red eyes lock onto him, pupils dilating enough to make him blush in spite of the cool water.

“Is there anything else you need, for the garden or for the cave?”

“Only thing I can think of is chickens; be nice to have a source of eggs that ain’t me runnin down to the foothills to get ‘em.”

“Hmmm, pile-hens may be able to survive the coming cold. I will look into it.”

“Guess we might need a rooster too. Never got along with the one on the farm grownin up; damn thing had it out for my ankles.”

“We had a fire-magpie that felt much the same way about by head when I was young. Agh, reaching this patch of my back is so awkward. Duck, would you mind helping when you have a moment?”

“Nope” Duck swims over as the dragon rolls onto his side, scales glinting off the water, “where do you need it?”

“The patch between my wings near my neck. I can technically reach it, but I assume you would prefer to not have to undo me when I tie myself in a knot trying.”

“Got that right, noodle-dragon.” He takes the offered stone and begins scrubbing, gently scraping the edge beneath small gaps in the scales to free them of dirt and little bits of sand. Indrid is purring, chirping softly whenever Duck gives a firmer stroke. He never knew dragons made that noise. Then again, maybe it’s just Indrid who does, yet another point in the category of “cuter than a large monster has any right to be.”

Duck hums as he works, decides coming from above will give him a better angle and climbs onto the dragon’s side. This earns him a sigh and a deeper purr, the vibrations making him want to curl up atop Indrid and rest. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me now.”

“Mmmm” Indrid’s eyes close, “it is not my fault your touch is so relaxing.”

By the time Duck is done, Indrid is asleep in the fading sunshine. The setting is so idyllic and the dragon so content that Duck decides not to break the scene just yet. A quick trip inside is all it takes for him to have the makings of a nice dinner for two. Indrid wakes up as Duck gets the fire going. 

“Thought it’d be a nice change to eat under the stars.”

“Brilliant. Oooh, the pumpkins are finally ripe.” Indrid tosses an entire sugar pumpkin into his mouth, munching happily. 

The wind picks up halfway through dinner, and so the dragon makes himself into a semi-circle around the fire, blocking the draft. In their repositioning, Duck ends up resting against Indrid, watching the stars come out. 

“There’s the western arrow.” He points up, Indrid shifting behind him to look, “and there’s draco.”

“That is the griffin, I believe.” The dragon points with his wing to a constellation over the horizon. 

“Yep, because the north star is right there.”

“That is Magnus, the hero, yes?” Indrid indicates another cluster of stars. 

“Yeah” Duck sighs, “that’s the one I was born under. Part of how they knew I was gonna be a chosen one.”

“That’s rather silly; it’s not as if I was born under draco.”

“Part of a prophecy sayin how I’d be the savior of the kingdom one day. Guess it was a translation error or somethin, since I ended up here. Not that I ain’t likin it here, but it don't really match up with all that.”

A thoughtful hum, “What would you be doing, had you not become a knight?”

“Wanted to be a forest steward, maybe a gardener. I like lookin after the natural world. It’s so fuckin fascinatin. Had all these plans to see other ecosystems too.” There’s a comforting weight in his lap and he runs his hands along it, hoping he doesn’t sound too bitter. 

Wait, what is that thing in his lap?

The answer turns out to be the end of Indrid’s tail; the dragon is steadily curling around him. Rather than the panic he assumed he’d feel, he finds the whole configuration soothing. Indrid’s core is warm, his tail smooth, and he’s a giant creature of myth who seems like he’d gladly crawl into Duck’s lap if he could. That’s pretty damn flattering, when he thinks about it. 

“The winter is not the best for travel, but in the spring if there are places you wish to see, I will gladly take you. And if I cannot, or you do not wish me to, I can arrange for other travel for you.”

“You mean it?” Duck thumbs over a small scale over and over again, embarrassed by the hope in his voice. 

“Of course. I want you to be happy, Duck.”

He wants to answer, feels like he should, but the sincerity in the statement steals the words away. What is he supposed to say in the face of affection without strings attached? What is he supposed to do about the fact that he increasingly wants to see Indrid happy too?

Duck reaches up, drawing his hand back and forth along Indrid’s flank until the dragon is once again purring. Names the next constellation he sees, the two of them taking turns until they run out. Then they take turns making up new ones, Duck laughing as Indrid becomes increasingly specific in his titles (“that is the eastern thrush that screams outside the cave entrance”).

Gradually he drifts off to sleep, telling himself he’ll only rest his eyes for a moment before putting out the fire and going inside. The next thing he registers is his back settling into the mattress, scaly arms pulling the covers over him. 

\---------------------------------------------------

Indrid gently shuts the door to Duck’s room and, a minute later, shuts and bars the one on his own. He can’t risk being disturbed. The human’s been touching him all day, tender and intimate, wearing little clothing for much of it, and if he doesn’t take care of the matter now, he’ll be so hard come morning he might go up in flames. 

\-------------------------------------------------

“Damn, this is real soft.” Duck rubs the sleeve of the deep blue bathrobe he pulled from under a stack of paint jars. 

“Oh good, it is yours.” 

“You sure, it was in your pile-”

“-as I have said, my horde is yours to use.” The dragon smiles, brushes Duck’s side playfully with his tail, and goes back to sorting paintings. A summer storm has ruined their plans to sit by the river, so they’ve opted to pare down Indrid’s horde, finding things Duck wants or can use as well as things the dragon no longer likes or needs. Duck, using his knowledge of Kepler and the surrounding towns, has divided some of the off-cast precious metals into piles, each meant for a specific place he knows could use them.

“Then I’m gonna snag this too--Wait, damn, though it was suspenders.” Duck grapples with the leather and silver straps, trying to put them into an identifiable configuration. 

Indrid trills a laugh, “That is meant to be worn over a bare torso as a sort of decorative harness.”

“Did you used to wear it?”

“Oh no, I do not like the texture, but I know some humans who wore it beneath their clothes. Orcs also wear them in the summertime to show off. My second cousin married into an orc family.” He adds when Duck raises an eyebrow. 

“While I must admit the idea of you wearing it as intended is intriguing...Here” Indrid holds out a claw, at the end of which dangles a pair of suspenders. 

“Thanks, ‘Drid.” It’s a double thanks. The suspenders are nice, but Duck appreciates the dragon trying to reign in his enthusiasm for Duck’s looks. It’s not that he doesn’t like feeling attractive, doesn’t occasionally take his time stripping off his shirt for a swim because of how it changes the tone of Indrid’s purr. But if he thinks about it for more than a second, the idea of a royal dragonborn feeling that way about his squishy, farm-born body is too much. Too much attention, too much desire, too much to want with no idea how to obtain it. And way, way too many thoughts of the ways Indrid might touch him if he let him. 

He’s been dressing nicer for dinner lately, wasn’t even aware he was doing it until tonight. He just wanted Indrid to know he was happy to be around him, wanted a chance to wear some of the nicer garments the dragon found for him. And, yes, in the safety of his own thoughts, he’ll admit what he wanted to look his best for him. He hadn’t meant to make a habit of it. 

It was only tonight, when the dragon arrived with pearlescent dust on his face and crushed jewels on his wings, that Duck understood he’d done just that. 

_“That color goes real nice with your horns. What’s the occasion?”_

_“There is none. I, ah, I simply wanted to look my best.”_

_Duck looks down at his own clothes, and understands he may be in more trouble than he thought._

There’s a wistful sigh, and he turns to find Indrid perched on a cushion, holding a framed drawing in his hands. 

“You do that one?”

“Yes. I do so miss drawing. To do it in this form is such a rigmarole, I have not done more than rudimentary sketch in a long time.”

“There ain’t a spell that can help with it” Duck climbs to where he can sit and be eye to eye with Indrid. 

“None that can replicate the feeling of being so consumed by creativity, the tactile sensations and the working and reworking until you have something you are proud of.” He looks at Duck, eyes, and voice far away, “so many things I would do, were my hands not immense and clawed.”

“Bet you’re real clever with ‘em.”

The double meaning only registers when the gold blush once again blooms on Indrid’s cheeks. 

“I have been told I am.”

Duck puts that response and all it suggests from his mind. Until he’s in bed; then it invades every corner of his dreams. 

\-------------------------------------------------------

“Gotta say, when you told me I was ridin a Muntjack for this trip, I kinda thought you meant a donkey.”

“Why would I mean that?” Indrid tightens the saddle of a surprisingly calm, six foot tall Jackalope, “A Muntjackalope can navigate the jumbles much more safely than any horse or mule could.”

The jackalope regards him with bug-eyes, white fur ruffling in the breeze.

“O-kay. You sure this is everything you want me to take?”

“Yes. I would go with you but I do not fair well in the snow. Travel safe.” Indrid waits until Duck has mounted the saddle to bump their foreheads together. 

Snow dusts the streets and rooftops of Amnesty, flakes catching on Duck’s nose as he stables the jackalope outside his destination. Amnesty is the last human town on this side of the mountains, though it’s position between between Kepler, Orc territories, and the more secluded realms of dragonborn and Warg nobility means all manner of beings turn to look at Duck as he steps into the wind-worn but well-built shelter that is Amnesty Lodge. 

“Can I help you?” A woman with grey streaks in her hair and a long coat billowing out around her steps up to meet him at the front desk. 

“I’m here on an errand for Indrid Cold. He asked me to drop these off and pick up an order from someone named Barclay.” He plunks two saddlebags of treasure onto the counter. The woman doesn’t look the least bit surprised by the gift. 

“Mighty generous of him. C’mon, I’ll show you to the kitchen.” She stops, holds out her hand, “Names Mama, by the way.”

“Duck. Or, uh, sir Duck, if we’re gonna be formal about it.”

“Not much need for that around here. Most people come to Amnesty to lose their titles for a bit.” With that, she swings the bags over her shoulders, leading Duck down a hallway lined with rooms and a staircase leading into a basement level, dug into the side of the rocky hillside.

“How’s Indrid doin these days? Ain’t come by since the last snowmelt.”

“He’s doin well. I think. Kinda always asks me how I’m feelin and then gives short answers when I ask him. Did he used to come here a lot?”

“All the time. But that was before the, uh, y’know” Mama makes a shape with her finger that roughly conveys sprouting wings, “snowy wind is hard on true dragons. Think he liked comin somewhere no one knew or cared he was royalty. Here’s the kitchen” the pats the bags, “I’m gonna go put these somewhere safe, and I'll bring the bags bac so Barclay can load 'em up. Nice meetin you, Duck, and if you don’t wanna risk the trip home tonight, you just come find me and I’ll get you a room.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Duck tips his head, pushing open the kitchen door as she tromps away. Sitting at a central, wooden prep table is a handsome man with back hair, so engrossed in the book he’s holding that he doesn’t look up until Duck speaks.

“You must be Barclay?”

A dashing smile, “Not quite. That’s Barclay” He points towards the fireplace. 

Well, that explains the high ceilings. 

Curled up by the fire is a copper-scaled dragon, snoring peacefully. He looks about Indrid’s size, though he’s shaped more like the dragons Duck’s seen in picture books. 

“Do you need something? He’s a little tired from the lunch rush, so if I can help that would be best.”

“Uh, I ain’t entirely sure. Indrid told me to talk to him specifically, said he’d know what it was about.”

An inquisitive, slightly wary look enters the man’s blue eyes, “Indrid usually sends Ned’s errand boy up here.”

“I’m kind of a new development. I’m his, uh, his knight.”

“Oh!” The man hops off his stool, “that explains it. It’s nice to meet a brother-in-arms.” He bows, “Sir Joseph Stern, former knight of the kingdom of Ashington.”

Duck spots a faded insignia on the breast of his coat, “Former?”

“I technically resigned after they sent me to slay Barclay and I refused.”

“I thought slayin dragonborns is against a whole lotta treaties.”

“It is” rumbles a voice from the floor, Barclay stirring and stretching out his front feet, “but because I’m a hearth dragon and not a royal, nobody bothered to note that fact anywhere.”

“Even if you were a true dragon, I wouldn’t have laid a finger on you.” Stern rubs a hand fondly across Barclay’s side, sending a purr through the floor, “I assume you were assigned as Indrid’s consort by a similar clerical error?”

“Yep.” Duck watches as Barclay shimmers and shifts into his smaller form; he’s only a foot taller than Stern now, scales the same color and face much more human in shape and proportion. He tips Stern’s face up for a kiss and Duck becomes very interested in the countertop.

“Got Indrid’s order right here; just let me pack it up so nothing breaks open on the way back. Might take a minute, you want tea or anything?”

“Sure” Duck sits next to Stern, Barclay grabbing a teapot and mug and pouring from one into the other without even looking as he reads over a list pinned to a cabinet. 

“I thought hearth dragons fell outta style years ago? Don’t think a noble in Kepler would be caught dead with a dragon heatin their house and makin their dinner”

“You’re right. It’s for the best, too. This used to be the burgomasters house, which is how I ended up here, and the fucker thought I was nothing more than a glorified firestarter. I was still living in this cave when they tore the whole house down, and it suited me fine. When Mama decided to build the lodge, she found out I was here and offered to find another spot. Then when I said they could stay, she offered me a job. Turns out I really like cooking for people who actually give a shit about me. Hmm, babe, have you seen that big container of caramels?”

“Right here” Stern slides the jar across the table. 

Barclay catches it, setting it into a bag, “You two getting along okay? Indrid wrote me when he found out he was getting a human. It’s the most excited he’s sounded in years.”

“Once I worked out I wasn’t gonna be forced into a romancin a huge dragon things went pretty smooth.”

“When unforced, it has its pluses.” Stern murmurs.

Barclay turns rose-gold across the face, clears his throat, “You should eat before you get back on the road. Here, dinner’s on me.”

Duck spends the next hour chatting with the pair, swapping stories of misadventure with Stern and getting details about Indrid’s past from Barclay. It’s warm and the food is excellent, and he can’t stop wishing Indrid were here to enjoy it with him. 

Before he leaves, he makes Stern and Barclay promise to come visit them soon.

As the jackalope bounds down the mountain, Duck can’t stop thinking about the way the two looked at each other, how unbothered Stern was by Barclay’s dragon form. When Stern slipped the odd suggestive confession his way, Duck got the sense he wasn’t only talking about being with the cook when he was in his dragonborn shape. He also got the sense that Stern had taken one look at him and decided Duck wanted to do the same with Indrid. Known how often he dreams of claws and scales.

How the man could be so right after so little interaction? Duck makes a note to avoid trying to keep secrets from Joseph Stern. 

They leave the snow behind well before reaching the cave, but the chill has slipped under his coat, making him shiver as he unsaddles his ride at the southern entrance. Indrid must already be asleep, as he does not come out to meet him, which leaves Duck staring at a snuffling, whiskered face with more than a few questions.

“So, uh, do I...pay you? Do you live with us now?” 

The jackalope bends down, plucks a bag of apples that are poking from one corner of the saddlebag, and hops off into the night.

He leaves the rest of the supplies in the kitchen figuring he can unpack them in the morning when he’s not tired and freezing. Changing into his pajamas and slipping into his bed are a borderline spiritual experience. All the same, he wakes up shivering, and none of the blankets are enough to chase the cold from his bones. Indrid has plenty of warm items on his horde and so he risks a fast walk across the cold stones of the tunnels to reach the dragon’s room. 

He only means to be in it for a moment, but as soon as he enters warmth floods him. Indrid explained he, like most dragons, runs warm but gets cold easily. In the summer, his body heat was indistinguishable from the warmth in the air. In the cold cave it’s noticeable. Noticeable and tempting. 

Indrid once offered to curl around Duck as he slept, which--to his goosebumped skin--sounds like a good plan.

No, he’ll just find more blankets somewhere else. 

His heel knocks over what sounds like a silver goblet. Indrid opens an eye.

“Duck? Is everything alright? Did something befall you on your journey?”

“I’m fine, just got colder than I thought I would on the way back. I was, uh, was wonderin…”

Even in the near-darkness, Indrids scales glint and his eyes glow with affection as he waits for Duck to finish. 

“...I was wondering if I could, uh, take you up on that offer to sleep next to you. I’m thinkin on top might be safest. I mean, uh, if that's still alright?”

Indrid holds out his hand, helping Duck onto his back and handing him a pillow and three blankets.

“Are you comfortable?” The dragon nestles back down into his bed.

“Yeah, this is real nice. Thanks, Drid.”

“You are welcome, Duck.” Indrid lays his head down and once again shuts his eyes. 

In the darkness, the knight understands his earlier internal ramblings missed something. His desire for the dragon has been growing, that is true. But it’s outstripped a thousand times over by how happy he feels to simply be with him; how, as he crested the last ridge tonight and saw the cave, his first thought was “I’m home.”

That feeling now slices along his heart, echoes out into every atom of him. Duck has kissed before, has fucked plenty, has lain in bed next to someone. Yet the rise and fall of Indrid beneath him, the steady sound of his heart when Duck lays his head down, the soft purr that leaves him when Duck rubs his cheek on his scales, are unfamiliar in their intimacy and thus twice as captivating. 

Which is why, when he awakens, their absence is instantly obvious. As is their replacement with a much smaller chest beneath his head. 

“Well, I must say this is a surprise”

It’s Indrid’s voice and when Duck sits up, startled, it’s unmistakably Indrid’s face staring up at him. The ruby eyes are the same, as is the curvature of the smile and the color of his horns. The scales are their usual rich black; what puzzles Duck is they’re only peeking out in patches of his tan skin. 

“My mother was only half dragonborn.” Indrid says to the question Duck almost asks.

“‘Drid you, you’re...it's incredible.”

Indrid reaches up, cupping Duck’s cheek with a slender, slightly scaled but very human hand. 

“I fear it will not last. My foresight tells me I will revert to my dragon form in a few moments. But this is a singularly interesting development.”

“No kiddin.”

(He should hold him closer, learn what’s like to be able to wrap his arms around that wiry frame. He should stroke his silver hair. He should kiss him.)

Duck is frozen until Indrid speaks.

“Before I change once more, will you permit to do something?”

“Anythin.”

Indrid sits up and places a gentle, cool kiss on Duck’s cheek.

“Oh yes” He sighs, resting their foreheads together as his body shimmers “that is just as lovely as I thought.”

Then Duck is once again atop a large, black dragon.


	4. You Wish to Have the Curse Reversed?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid tells a story. Duck spends some time alone. Thacker has a message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: At one point Indrid is worried another dragon has gotten into the cave. It's not explicitly stated, but one of the things he's afraid of is that said has sexually assaulted Duck (no such thing has occurred).

“Hmmmmm” Aubrey holds a purple crystal over Indrid’s eye.

“Any ideas?” Duck helps Dani pull an enchanted frost-cloth over her tomato patch.

“Hmmmmmmmmm” The spellcaster walks a full circle around the dragon, tucks the crystal back in her pocket, “between this and my third eye, it does look like there’s a fracture in the curse. Which is weird, because generally curses break or stay put. They don’t-” she makes a zig-zag in the air with her index finger, “bzzzz.”

“But it is a sign the curse could break, yes?” Indrid flutters his wings tightly against his sides. 

“Sort of. It depends on the conditions of the curse and who cast it.”

“Oh.” Indrid sags, laying his chin down on the rim of a nearby fountain.

“Indrid, I know it’s a touchy subject, but-”

“-can I tell you how this happened? Yes, though it is not a pleasant memory.”

Duck and Dani join them, the knight sitting so Indrid can drape his tail into his lap.

“Neither you nor Duck will remember, as you were little more than a baby and he was a young child, but twenty years ago, the kingdom of Kepler sent it’s princess, Sylvain, on a diplomatic mission. Specifically, she was to marry me.”

“No way.” Aubrey gasps. 

“Yes, way. We understood it was a political marriage, doubly advantageous as it combined her spellcasting prowess with my skill as a seer into one royal house.”

The dragon is growing more circular by the second, coiling so his head can rest against Duck’s side. The human pets his cheek, comforting him. 

“She and I, and our various advisors, had finished a round of wedding planning. She left our halls and was winding home through mountains with her entourage in tow. Thirty souls all told. A summer storm hit, of no concern to anyone, her and myself included. Until the futures reset and I received a horrible vision. I flew as fast as I could but...but I was too late. The bridge over the Silver River, weakened just enough by the wind, gave out, sending the party plummeting into the ravine to be swallowed up by the rapids below.” He shudders, “it was then I, and everyone else, discovered Sylvain had been in love with a sorceress named the Quell.”

“Oh _shit_.” Aubrey pulls Dani a little closer, “the Quell cursed you?”

The dragon nods, “She arrived in a swirl of thunderclaps and red clouds, blaming me for Sylvain’s death. She was certain it was my negligence or cowardice that meant I arrived too late to save her beloved. I tried to explain but she would hear none of it. There on the mountainside she cursed me to never again be able to take my dragonborn form. I was exiled soon after.” Raindrops patter on his scales until Aubrey casts a see-through barrier, shielding them all. 

"Your family didn't help you none?"

“As you may have noticed, Duck, my kind are rather concerned with status and appearance; in this form, I was unseemly in their halls. And many feared that the Quell’s wrath was not over. If she directed it at me once more, they would all be in danger if I remained in the main city. I, ah, I also suspect most of them shared her opinion of me. Some even went so far as to imply that I let Sylvain die because I did not wish to proceed with the marriage. So I left.”

As Duck and Dani continue petting his snout and sides soothingly (and Dr. Harris Bonkers licks his right front pinkie), Aubrey stands and paces. 

“Okay so, like, there’s good news and bad news. Bad news is the Quell is still grieving Sylvain, and will until she dies. Good news is she’s not heartless; we might be able to make a case to her to reverse the spell. Or, like, reduce it a bit."

"What if that is not enough?"

"Look, I've never heard of a curse that didn't have a loophole or secret way out or something. That's kind of like an unwritten rule of magic; spells are only as good as their casters, and casters aren't all-knowing. There's always something they didn't account for when making the curse. We just have to find it. Or, better yet, get her to tell us. I just wish I knew how to reach her; I've never met her, and neither has this cutie. The Quell keeps to herself and keeps everyone else away in pretty, um, aggressive ways."

“What about asking Thacker?” Dani plucks a pumpkin from a nearby vine, offering it to the glum dragon. Indrid opens his mouth so she can place it on his tongue. Duck didn’t know someone could chew morosely. 

“You mean the fella who lives in that weird hut at the edge of the woods? He’s a forest steward, what’s he got to do with the Quell.”

“He got possessed by her for awhile.” Aubrey says casually, “they kinda have a psychic link now because of it, and she seems to actually listen to him sometimes.”

“It is worth a try, if the futures are anything to go by.”

“Let me get in touch with Juno; she’s known Thacker awhile, and it might be safer than havin one of you two contact him, since we still got no fuckin clue who’s tryin to kill you.”

“Deal.” Aubrey leans down, rubs Indrid’s head reassuringly, “don’t worry buddy, we’ll get you un-cursed somehow.”

\---------------------------------------------------------

Duck likes to think he’s a patient guy. But ever since he got that glimpse of Indrid as a dragonborn, he wants that curse broken and he wants it broken fucking _yesterday_. 

Now he has two versions of Indrid to fantasize about, one far more feasible in terms of how he’d fuck him in it but both appealing in their own ways. That's twice the mental energy directed at suppressing those thoughts when he and Indrid are together, as a deeply unhelpful part of him is convinced propositioning the dragon will be a disaster. Which is why, with Indrid out on an errand, the knight opts to use one of the newest additions to his horde. A toy made of smooth, green glass that vibrates when tapped twice. 

He shuts his eyes, conjures images of Indrid tangled around him, claws pricking his thighs and cock buried deep. Imagines Indrid turning that same hungry, adoring gaze he sometimes gets on him, imaginary Duck reveling in the attention rather than shying from it. 

The plan is to take his time, cum once, and get on with his day. 

He falls asleep, sprawled out and satisfied on the bed, after orgasm number four. 

\--------------------------------------------

Indrid sorts through the futures as he lands, though his mind is mainly on lounging by the fireside with Duck napping atop him. Snow will soon come to the foothills, the cold already biting his wingtips, and if he has his way he’d stay warm and cozy on his horde with his human until spring. 

It’s when he enters the parlor that he scents it; sex, heavy and lingering in the cave air. Three thoughts fly to the front of his mind.

One: Duck has not said anything about a partner, casual or otherwise.

Two: Other humans give this area a wide berth, so odds of one stumbling on the cave by accident are low. 

Three: If another dragon has put a single hair on Duck’s head out of place, Indrid will slit said dragon’s belly open. 

He drops to all fours and speeds through the cave, foresight telling him the human is in the garden. Indrid emerges into the clearing, head swiveling in search of intruders. There’s no other dragons, no other beings, in sight, save for the knight and their new flock of pile-hens. Duck looks up from where he’s feeding them their dinner, the birds clucking softly around his feet. He waves, empties the last bit of feed into the coop, and heads toward the dragon. 

As his adrenaline settles down, Indrid realizes there is only one scent in the cave, and it belongs to the man standing in front of him. A more pleasant explanation clarifies in his mind; Duck was masturbating earlier, must have taken his time, wholly unaware that doing so would leave a scent Indrid's heightened senses register. Indrid needs to shake the images of Duck pleasuring himself from his mind before he has to form a coherent greeting. 

“Hey ‘Drid, glad you’re ho-uhhhhh, everythin okay?”

“Yes. Fine. Perfectly fine.”

“Your frill’s up.”

“Eeeeep” Indrid trills and hurriedly pats at the traitorous body part. 

“Fuck, are we under attack?” Worry skitters across the knights face, and Indrid accepts his impending humiliation. 

“I, ah, I misinterpreted something--it is not important what--when I arrived home and I thought, ah, I thought another dragon might have been with you. Harmed you.”

“Appreciate the worry, goof-noodle, but I’m a trained chosen one; even if somethin did get in, I could keep the place safe.”

“Right, of course, you are very right. It is just that you are so dear to me, and as part of my horde you are under my protection as much as I am under yours. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.” He’s flushed gold all the way to his forearms, desperately looking anywhere but at the human. 

When Duck presses their foreheads together the dragon purrs, frill finally retracting. 

“The most dangerous thing I dealt with today was the blonde hen who thinks she’s an eagle. I’m okay, darlin. We both are.” He keeps his head resting on Indrid’s as he speaks, smooths his hands over the sensitive scales beneath his jaw, and all Indrid wants is to stay like this, comforted and cared for, until moss covers them both.

“C’mon, they laid enough eggs that we can try makin that cake recipe Barclay sent.”

“Can I carry you inside?” He hears his own voice ask the question, compensates by shoving an entire squash vine into his mouth as if that might cover the words. 

Duck stares at him, eyes roving across his features as he formulates his reply. There's a flicker of understanding. All it does is make Indrid want to add that he just wants him close, to hold him the way a frightened child might hold a toy bear. He’s gearing up to do just that and apologize as well when Duck smirks at him.

“Sure. Long as you let me ride you.” The tone is lower than Duck usually speaks in, his drawl more noticeable. 

He bows, hoping the dusk covers his possibly permanent blush, assuming the human will climb onto him like normal. Duck takes his time, trailing his fingers along Indrid’s sides, stroking his wings, and nuzzling his neck. 

“Missed you.” He murmurs, clambering into his usual spot. 

“And I you.” Indrid sighs, falling further under the spell of teasing fingers and the last hints of sex in the air, “shall I take you inside, my dear?”

“Take me anywhere you want. Any time too.”

Indrid’s heart sparks like green wood in a fireplace. 

But the lights of the cave chase Duck’s boldness away, the human falling back into their usual patterns as soon as they reach the kitchen. Indrid lets it run, listens as Duck describes the progress of the garden, tells him in great detail about the art he located on his treasure hunt today, content as a cat on a windowsill the whole night. 

That does not change how badly he wants to hunt that flash of boldness down, chase it into a corner and discover if Duck will yield to him. Discover how it feels to rend his clothes, drag his tongue along the curves of his body, to know what would happen if the human saw the full force of his lust for him and said “yes.”

When Duck climbs atop him to sleep, Indrid banishes all thoughts of what he would have done if Duck allowed him to watch the knight touch himself this morning, and hums them both to sleep.

\---------------------------------------------

Thacker arrives at the cave bedraggled, Aubrey helping him in as Dani carries Dr. Harris Bonkers. Duck guides a chair close to the fire while Indrid lays out two trays of food and hot tea. 

“I do not wish to badger you, as you are tired and have already done me a favor, but are we in the timeline where she told me to surrender all hope or the one where she actually spoke with you in detail.”

“The second one” Thacker knocks mud from his boots with his walking stick, “though she was mighty peeved the entire time. She says she’ll lift the curse on one condition. And it’s one I ain’t sure you can meet.”

“I will try all the--oh dear.”

Thacker chuckles, sips his tea, “Yep, that about sums it up. She’s heard rumors that Sylvain might have survived the accident. And she wants _you_ to find her.”


	5. A Knight's Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid makes a threat. Duck makes an offer.

Duck wants to be tied up. 

The urge dogs him for two days as they wait for Thacker and Aubrey to finish investigating leylines, fairy rings, and psychic planes for signs of Sylvain, Indrid using his foresight to help guide them when possible.

By day three, his patience splits like a tree hit by lightning. All Indrid’s words about Duck being his treasure, about keeping him close, all the hungry looks and flirtation, as stumbling as it may be, dominate his thoughts. If he had his way, he’d prostrate himself in front of the dragon and beg him to use the nearest piece of rope, silk, or chain to tie him up and do literally anything he wants to him. 

The problem with this plan is two fold: one, Indrid is anxious and distracted by their impending quest. Two, the dragon still thinks Duck is uninterested in any sort of romantic advance, let alone a sexual one. Going from “no” to “please tie me up” would be jarring for both of them. His own attempts to flirt always crumple halfway to completion; he’s not sure what’s waiting for him if he succeeds and that, coupled with his own sense that is something weird about all this, means he backs off just when the dragon starts purring and nuzzling his side. 

His solution is the harness he previously tossed back into Indrid’s horde. The deep brown leather is comforting on his skin, just rough enough to remind him of it’s presence as he tends the garden and makes them both lunch. Before laying down for an afternoon nap, he braves the chill to look in the mirror. Maybe he should try out other orc fashions; this one highlights the muscles in his chest, turns his belly into a feature, the silver buckles stylish against the color of his skin. Indrid will love how it looks on him. Someday. 

An hour later, he wakes up with his wrists bound. 

“‘Drid, what the fuck?”

“Shhhh” a voice that is not draconic in the slightest comes from behind him. An awkward roll brings a well-dressed knight into view. 

“Man, you got two seconds to untie me-”

“It’s nothing personal. But there’s a dragon to be dealt with, and to deal with him I need his” the man looks at Duck with distaste, “limited security out of commission for a time.”

“Indrid’s under my protection, and you ain’t touchin so much as a scale on him.”

“You are restrained, and are the only guard here. I know, as we did observe you for some time.” He turns, opening the door. 

“Shoulda done more research.” Duck snaps the rope and lunges off the bed. 

The knight blinks, “A chosen? That changes a great deal.”

“Ain’t sure it does.” He nearly grabs him, but his opponent spins out of range and sprints down the hall. Duck takes off after him, planning to herd him towards the back-most and corner him in the garden. But he’ll take any route of pursuit that keeps them away from where Indrid is sleeping. 

Further proving Duck’s point about research, the other knight hesitates at a crossroads, allowing Duck to tackle him. There’s a flash of silver and he arches, sucking in his stomach just in time for the knife to slash his shirt rather than his skin. 

“Hey, I’m not tryin to fuckin kill you, so knock it off with the weapons and hold still.”

“It would be extremely wise to listen to him.” Indrid fills the right-most corridor, wings and frill open. 

“‘Drid, stay back, I got no idea what he’s got on him.”

“We shall soon find out.” Indrid bares his teeth, snout close to the intruders head, “you have bruised my knight. Cooperation is the only thing that will keep me from severing you with my claw.”

“‘Drid.”

“Very well. No dismembering shall occur, but you should still cease your fighting and tell us who sent you.

The man looks between them. Then his jaw clenches and green foam bubbles from his lips. 

“Aw fuck.” Duck clambers off of the dying man, who goes limp and loses his pulse within seconds. 

Indrid sniffs the air, “It smells like bile.”

“Blood berry, most toxic plant in this part of the world. Must’ve popped it in his mouth when he was runnin in case I got the upper hand. Which means he was plannin on beefin it before you even showed up. Said he was here to kill you, and I’d bet the whole horde that he’s who tried to poison Aubrey.”

“Or working for the same people. Bring me a lamp and a sketchpad please, dearest.”

Duck returns with the asked for items, watches the dragon study the dead man and carefully copy something onto the paper. 

“The insignia on his chest” Indrid answers right before Duck asks, indicating the interlocked capital I and capital A in the fabric, “I am copying it to send to Joseph; he reads a great deal about secret orders and such, and given that neither of us recognizes this, he may be able to identify it far faster than we can.”

The knight sits down next to the dragon, watching him work, frowning at his claws whenever they make what he must deem too poor a stroke. He doesn’t need to stay, but there's no way in hell he’s letting Indrid out of his sight. Indrid’s tail curls protectively around Duck’s lower back, stays there until he tears the paper loose. 

“I am going to call down a mail falcon and get rid of this” he picks up the corpse, “I will also put up a protective spell around the cave. It would make me feel much calmer if you were to wait for me in my room until I am done.”

“Okay.”

The horde is scattered when he arrives. Indrid must have bolted up and run when he understood what was happening. He rearranges the cushions and blankets into Indrid’s favorite configuration, sits there flipping a gold piece until the door slides open. 

“Thank you.” Indrid sighs, tapping his claws together, “I, ah, you can go wherever you like now. I, I am sorry, I did not mean to order you about, I was frightened and-”

“‘Drid, it’s okay, I don’t mind holin’ up while you secure the homestead.” He keeps his tone light, hops off the horde to stand in front of the dragon. 

“Would you permit me to look you over to be certain you are not hurt?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Shirt off please, as I saw the knife mark in it.”

Duck pulls off his shirt, watches Indrid’s eyes widen. 

“Fuck. I’m still wearin it, ain’t I?”

“Yes” A long tongue flicks out as he takes in the harness, “and here I thought it was not to your liking.” 

“I, uh, I was just, uh, fuck, just tryin it out for, uh, no, no reason at, fuck, at all.”

A clawtip hooks into the uppermost strap, “The truth, little knight.”

“I been thinkin” he shudders as Indrid leans closer, now tugging the strap between two claws, “I been thinkin about you. Us. Together. And if I didn’t distract myself somehow, I was gonna go crazy from it. So I put this on hopin it would help.”

“Is it working as a distraction aid?” Indrid lowers to all fours, leans forward to nose at Duck’s chest and belly, purring when the knight stays put.

“Not any more” His voice is bow-string tight. 

“You are thinking, of course of my-” Indrid stops, meets his eyes, “you are thinking of _both_ forms?”

“No fair lookin at the future to catch me embarrassing myself. But yeah” Duck reaches out, stroking Indrid’s face, “at this point, I’m so fuckin infatuated with you that I want you no matter how you look.”

Golden-faced, Indrid purrs so loud it interrupts his speech and he has to try twice more to make an intelligible sentence. 

“I want you so badly, Duck Newton. But as has doubtless occurred to you, we are not exactly compatible in these forms. While there are some futures where we try, the ones where you are injured in spite of your chosen toughness outweigh the, ah, more enjoyable options. No, my sweet, regardless of how much I wish to make you mine, it is not to be.”

Duck summons all his courage, “Unless.”

“Unless?”

“Unless we get a little creative. I mean” he steps back, Indrid’s pupils dilating, “you say you wanna make me yours, but ain’t I that already? Part of your horde, remember?” He reclines on the pile, arms behind his head.

“True” Indrid advances on him, “and I can do what I wish with my horde.”

“Uh huh” Duck runs a hand down to his dick, rubbing it lazily through his pants. 

“And I think…” The dragon tips Duck’s chin up with the tip of his claw, “I would like a particular treasure to show me just what he does when he thinks of me.”

“Happy to.”

“Please remove your trousers.”

Duck bursts into giggles, “Sorry, not used to so much formality when I fuck.”

Indrid growls deeper than Duck’s ever heard, “Pants off now or I rip them away with my teeth.”

The humans moans, pants hitting a jumble of nearby fabric an instant later. 

“Yessss” Indrid grins, gaze dragging up and down Duck’s body, “it seems all my late-night imaginings are correct. You are the finest looking thing to grace this cave or any other.”

“Bet you say that to all the knights.” Duck teases, toes curling as he thumbs his dick purposefully. 

Indrid snorts, “Hardly. Tell me, dearest, what thoughts had you so awash with desire that the only means of distracting yourself was to dress like a consort angling for his lords favor?”

“Thought that’s exactly what I was?”

The grin widens, teeth glittering in the torchlight, “Do not avoid the question, my knight.”

“I ain’t. Just decidin if you deserve the answerAH!” A clawed hand slams down, pinning him to the horde. Indrid is large enough for him to have wiggle room, the clawed fingers bracketing his body. 

“Try again.” Indrid swipes his tongue up the exposed length of Duck’s leg. The human whimpers as hot breath prickles his skin. 

“Keep, keep thinking about what you’d do to me if I let you tie me up. How it’d feel to be on my back with you forcin my legs apart.”

“Like this?” Indrid adjusts his hand, shoving Duck’s legs open with clawtips of his thumb and pinky. The points don’t pierce the skin but they dig into it, delicious pain coursing through his body in reply. Faced with a giant monster looming over him, licking it’s lips and keeping it’s claws close to the tender parts of his body, his fight or flight instinct evaporates, replaced by the unshakeable belief that what he’s here for is to be used.

“Drid” the undignified moan slips out just as two of his fingers slip inside. 

“Ooh yes, that’s it my sweet, put on a show for me like a good little consort. I wish to know every way to pleasure you so that when the time comes I can make you cum before taking you a half dozen times in a row.”

“AHnnnn” Duck tips his face down and to the side, rubbing his cheek against the nearest finger, “like that so much, darlin.”

“That is when I am in my dragonborn form, of course. Were I to have my way with you in this form…” The dragon sits up, searching for something in the pile of gems. Duck whines, works his hand faster to catch his attention once more.

“Patience. Ah, here they are” Dangling from his claws are a golden collar, cuffs, and elaborate harness, all studded with green stones, “I found these at the mercantile and bought them, even though there were no futures where you offered yourself to me. I” he blushes “I fantasize often about dressing you in nothing but these and staking you here at the front of my horde; my greatest treasure on display for me to enjoy."

“Fuck” Duck fucks himself harder at the idea, and red eyes lock onto him. It’s that same unbridled appreciation Indrid has tried (and often failed) to hide when he looks at the human. This time Duck bathes in it, shows every inch of himself that he can. This time, he gives the look right back. 

Indrid sets the gifts aside near Duck’s head, trails his claw up and down his torso, “I wonder, what could we do if I kept you like that now, with me like this? Perhaps my tongue” he licks a stripe from Duck’s hips up to his collarbone, “would suffice. It is thin enough at the front, I could use it to fuck you. Or maybe my tail is the better choice, easier for you to rub off on as I opened you up.”

“Sweet merciful fuck, _‘Drid_ ”

The dragon pulls back, “Apologies, was that too much?”

“Fuck no. God, who knew my darlin dragon had it in him?”

Indrid’s nostrils flare, another burst of warmth in the chilly room, “then I shall tell you my most lurid fantasy.”

“Please.” Duck arches and gasps as a claw traces the lines of his face. 

“You are staked out here, unable to escape, and I come to you as I am now, pick you up in my first, and ravage you in the, ah, traditional manner. Work you up and down my cock like the warm little toy you are as you scream for more and go limp in my grasp so you can take as much of me as possible, then leave you here dripping and satisfied until I have need for you once again. Oh!” Indrid’s eyes was Duck fucks himself with four fingers, wetter than he’s been in years, “my, that _is_ a sight.”

“Just for you, darlin, fuckthat’sgood, ohfuck, FUCK!” As he cums the curve of a claw smooths over his hair, Indrid trilling encouragingly. 

“Fuuuuuck” He sprawls on the horde, coins clinking onto the ground, “that was amazin’.”

“Very.” Indrid presses their foreheads together.

“Do, uh, do you wanna-”

“Yes, but I, ah, I am, am, ah” Indrid sits back, arms crossed protectively over my chest, “I feel odd doing it with you watching. It is not an erotic sight.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Indrid smiles, stays put, “Your enthusiasm is appreciated. But I, I would feel better if you did not see it. This time.”

Duck is about to argue that he’d never judge Indrid for how he looks or gets off in this form. Then he stops, imagines the scene from Indrid’s perspective; Indrid does not really want the body he’s in, is not comfortable showing it off.

“Okay” He sits up, props a pillow behind his head, “you want me to go? Or do you want some, uh, eye candy who keeps his eyes closed?”

The dragon perks up, “The second option.”

Duck closes his eyes. The purr once again changes tone, grows ragged quickly, growls and grunts punctuating it. 

“Love the sounds you make, darlin. Some of ‘em even get me goin’.”

A whining growl and a thud as hand hits the ground near him. The dragon must be on all fours. 

“Duck, oh Duck, c-can I touch you?”

“Of course” he opens his legs, assuming that’s what the dragon is after. Instead, a claw lands sideways in his palm.

“Shoulda known you’re the kind to hold hands durin sex.” Duck teases, turning his head to kiss the finger in his hand.

“I, I just want to be close, want t-to be held, want you, oh goodness, I have never had a better being in my bed, so good, so goodAHahnnnnnnn” The instant before he cums, the hand atop Duck’s shrinks, fingers interlacing with his.

A high, broken cry of pleasure, and a silver-haired head collapses onto his belly. 

“Holy shit.” 

“I, I do not understand” Indrid turns his head weakly, staring at his other hand, “why now? Why at all?” His gaze turns far off, his balance wobbles, and as Duck steadies him he spots that the dragonborn is wearing tattered black and silver finery, still bearing the mud stains of a decades old storm. 

“I don’t know. Can you see how long it’s gonna last?”

“Less than ten minutes. I should MPhmmmmmm” Indrid turns to a puddle in his arms as Duck pulls him into a kiss. There’s a hint of spice on his breath and skin, the scaled patches cool as Duck runs his fingers over them. The knight cards his fingers through Indrid’s hair, cups his cheek, marvels at being able to properly hug him. No words come from his partner, the dragonborn reduced to purrs and trills and sighs, snuggling as deep into the embrace as size and shape allow. 

When they break the kiss, Indrid clings to him, chirping whenever Duck whispers something sweet in his ear and replying with the most flattering words Duck’s ever heard. Curious, Duck peppers his face with kisses. It turns out that while dragonborns do not wag their tails, the tips of them change color if said dragonborn is happy. 

Eventually, Indrid gazes at him with sad red eyes, kisses him once, quickly, and wriggles from his arms, stepping back as his body shimmers.

Duck, cashmere blanket around his shoulders, hops onto the ground, resting his hand on a wide, black snout. 

“Maybe next time it’ll last even longer?”

“I can only hope. Come, we should rest up, as I think our journey will begin within the next few days. My foresight tells me there is a letter from Thacker waiting for us. His messenger magpie is picking through our silverware as we speak.”

“Right behind you. Um, after I put on clothes.”

There is indeed a magpie in the kitchen, and Duck reads over the letter as Indrid shoos it outside, silver butter knife in it’s beak. Thacker reports that their best chance is to head further into the mountains, towards the territories controlled by Indrid’s people. He includes a tentative itinerary and supply list. Indrid looks it over and nods.

“I will send a reply in the morning telling him to start packing.”

They eat an easy dinner and lounge by the fire, Duck managing to beat Indrid at chess. When they retire, Duck follows the dragon back to his room, changing into his nightclothes as the dragon curls up on the horde. 

Then he climbs onto his back and does his best to hold him.


	6. Questing

“Thacker oughta been a cartographer; this is real detailed.” Duck lays the map across the kitchen table, studying it for the tenth time that morning. The forest steward plotted out their route, marking the five potential locations of Sylvain in orange ink. It seems that if the princess is alive, she’s in or near the Jeweled Valley, the heart of dragonborn territory.

“My main concern is Klargs Pass, in the sliver of Warg territory; they’re perfectly hospitable, but it is very narrow and I have never navigated it on foot in the winter in such a large form.” 

“Are you sure you can’t fly us?” Dani asks, securing two massive saddlebags to Indrid’s sides. 

“It would be challenging in the cold, but more than that my shifting between forms is too unpredictable, even for me. The last thing I want is to be flying and change; dragonborn wings would let me hover, but do nothing for the three of you as you fell.”

“Oh! Speaking of cold.” Aubrey pulls a large necklace with an orange crystal from her back, “this is for you. It should keep you warm or, like, warm enough to not turn into a dragonsicle while we’re in the mountains.”

Indrid bows in thanks, Aubrey and Duck slipping the necklace over his head.

“All we need now is the bunnysitter and we can be on our way.” Aubrey boops Dr. Harris Bonkers nose. 

“Ah, there’s my favorite lagomorphic gentleman.” On cue, Ned strides into the room, the rabbit hopping to the edge of the table to greet him. 

“Here’s everything you need to know to take care of him.” Aubrey passes Ned a sheet of paper as long as Duck’s arm, “Indrid has one for cave care too.”

“Won’t be necessary.” Boyd slinks into the room, chamelionic scales flitting between his usual gold and the grey of the stones, “I’ll be stayin’ with him just in case. Shop ain’t far, and we’re lettin that group of riders, those, uh-”

“Hornets” Ned says helpfully.

“Right, them, bed down there in exchange for watchin the place so Kirby’s not alone.” Boyd eyes the room approvingly, “Nice digs you got here, Cold.”

“Thank you. They were a summer home in my previous life.”

Aubrey waves Ned and Boyd to her.

“If anything happens to Dr. Harris Bonkers while I’m gone, no amount of camouflage will save you.”

“Fear not, dear Aubrey, he is in good hands.” 

“Edmund, the little blighter is bitin my tail again.” 

“Good bunny. Okay, ready to hit the road?”

Indrid looks at Duck, who nods and shoulders his pack. 

“Indeed. Let us get this over with.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

The first leg of the journey is the most familiar, as Amnesty is their stopping point. There’s proper snow on the ground now, and when Barclay lets them in through the kitchen door (the only one a dragon can fit through) Indrid goes straight to the fire and sprawls before it. 

“Since you are about to ask, yes, I am fine down here and wish to nap, so it is perfectly alright if the rest of you go up to dinner.”

Duck kisses the top of his head and follows the others into the main lodge. It’s as warm and homey as he remembers, the beams creaky but strong against the whirling wind. Dinner is pot pie and chocolate cake with raspberry preserves, the dining room filled with conversations in no fewer than four languages. It’s the last homely house, and Duck wishes they could hunker down in it until spring. 

The reason they can’t is still by the fire when he goes downstairs, licking a large jam jar clean.

“You do need to sleep here if you would rather have a proper bed.” Indrid wipes his claws on a dishtowel. 

“Don’t mind curlin up here with you. Besides, I’m your knight; I’m supposed to protect you and right now seems like there’s at least two things out to get you.” Duck retrieves his bedroll from one of the packs, spreads it out a short distance from Indrid’s head. This way he’s close to the fire but out of squishing range if Indrid rolls over in his sleep.

The dragon sits up, alert, “Joseph has news.”

A moment later, the former knight steps into the kitchen, clearing his throat, “Oh good, you’re both here. I’ve already told Aubrey and Dani this, and it’ll be nice to only have to explain it one more time. I, um, I’m coming with you.”

Duck asks “why” at the same instant Indrid says, “your reasoning intrigues me.”

“I worked out what the insignia you sent me was; it’s worn by members of an order called Incortion Actie. They’re a secret society that is, frustratingly, very good at actually keeping it’s secrets, but what I can tell you is that the fact they’re trying to assassinate both Indrid and Aubrey is bad. Really, really bad.”

“And a normal assassination attempt is what? No big deal?”

“Compared to this? Yes.” Stern sits down across from them, “The accounts I found suggest that once this order is the kind that takes out governments, that sees itself as bringing order into a chaotic world through any means necessary. I couldn’t find details on the methods. No one seems to know what they are, just that they’re something to be afraid of.”

“How do we know it ain’t all some smokeshow then, and they’re just keepin their myth going without havin to do anything?”

“We don’t. But the odds are good it isn’t and, well, you all are my friends. If you’re going up against an order like this, I want to help you. Mama and Barclay do too, but they can’t abandon the lodge at this time in the year; it’s the busiest season.”

“If you wanna stick your neck out for us, I sure as hell ain’t gonna stop you. ‘Drid?”

The dragon smiles, touched, “We will gladly accept your help, my friend.”

\------------------------------------------------------------

Even with a scarf around half his face and the hood of his coat as far as it will go, snowflakes stick to Duck’s face. The four humans are on Indrid’s back, the dragon insisting on carrying them once the snow got up to their knees. 

Aubrey is at the front, feeding energy into the warmth charm to help Indrid along and using her magic to melt the spots where ice and snow threaten to make the trail impassable. Then the dragon stops, holds up his hand before any of the humans can speak. 

“If everyone stays calm, we will be alright.”

Ten figures appear from crevices in the cliff side, surrounding them. One, in a red cloak steps directly in front of Indrid before tossing back their hood. It’s an orc, and she is not happy to see them. 

“Been awhile since we had any dragons come through here.”

“Technically, I am a dragonborn.” Indrid bows low, causing the humans to do the same as they try to maintain their balance, “I was not aware this part of the mountains was orc territory. We are trying to reach the Greenbank Library. I apologize if we have intruded where we ought not to have.”

“Haven’t been that many dragonborns through here either in the time I’ve been governor.”

“That is strange.” Indrid murmurs.

“But I accept your apology. You have to understand, the sight of a dragon your size, up here, at this time of year, is cause for alarm for my people. And the last dragonborn that stayed anywhere near here, well” she gestures into the abyss, “they stripped half our usable farmland away. Hard enough to grow things in this soil as it is. Did get us thinking about aquaponics, but that’s another story.”

“Oh, I've heard about, it’s real neat.” 

The governor makes an amused face in Duck’s direction.

“N-not to be rude, but might we continue this c-conversation somewhere else?” Stern calls from his position at the rear. 

“I’d invite you to shelter with us, but there’s not enough time to alert the city to you as visitors. I’d prefer to avoid a panic, and I assume you’d like to avoid having spears chucked at you.”

“Very much so. I will add that you may wish to fortify your western exits; the storm will pick up soon and while it will not cause any injuries, digging out that side of town will be difficult.”

The governor is confused for a moment, then shrugs and nods at two of her guards, who slip back into the mountainside. 

“Oh wait” Stern digs into his pockets, passes a folded paper up to Duck, “have any of you seen humans wearing this insignia around here?”

The governor studies the drawing of the insignia Duck holds out to her, looks at the remaining orcs and gets a flurry of shaking heads. 

“Nope.”

“Damn” Duck folds it back up, “well, if you do, be on your guard.”

“We will” she tips her head, then adds, “if you take the left fork up ahead, it will be your fastest route to the library.”

With that, the troop disappears. 

“Glad we found out about that before we tried sleeping in one of these caves.” Aubrey sets her glove on fire for a second, then snuffs it.

“Same.” Say the other four.

\---------------------------------------------------

The orc’s directions find them at the library door a mere two hours of trudging later (“had we not followed her advice, it would have been three” the dragon says as he shivers). The stone door is shut tight, a three by three square of gems embedded at the center. After consulting Thacker’s map, Duck taps the red stones in the square in an X pattern and the door swings inward. 

“This is...dustier than I remember.” Indrid flicks the snow from his tail, “were it not for the lit torches, I would think no one was maintaining it.”

“Are you sure they’re aren’t just enchanted?” Dani runs her finger across a shelf, coming away with a dust bunny.

“Yes, as you will see in a moment.” Indrid points to a row of shelves, out of which emerges as grey-scaled dragonborn with yellow eyes.

“Welcome travelers, how can I--Indrid?”

“Hello, Vincent.”

“It is so good to see you after all these years. And it seems you have a court once more.”

“Not quite. With the exception of Duck, my knight, these are my friends. Or, ah, Duck is also my friend, but you take my meaning.”

After a round of introductions in which they learn Vincent is a retired draconic minister of defense and Vincent learns everyone’s names, Indrid explains their quest. 

“I am not sure why Thacker thought the princess might be here; I’ve been maintaining the library and waystation for five years, and never seen anything that suggests she is alive and in this dwelling. All the same, you are welcome to search to your hearts content, and stay as long as you wish. I will prepare some rooms. If you want to warm yourselves, there is a hearth through there.”

“Think it’s best if we heat up and then get to searchin; if she's here, it’s better if we find her soon.” Duck looks to the others, who nod. 

“I will help Vincent prepare the rooms; if memory serves, the back of this cave is warmer than the front, and I fear the ice in my scales is permanent.”

“Do what you need to, darlin. If you need us, holler.” Duck rests their foreheads together, then follows the others.

\------------------------------------------------------------

“I must say, I commend you for your choice of knights.” Vincent watches Duck disappear from view, pupils dilating ever so slightly. 

“I did not choose him, nor he me. He only learned of his role from me, once he’d arrived in my home. Those in his town mislead him and for a few days it made us both miserable.”

“An unfortunately common practice these last few decades. I assume you did not return him because of the political implications?” The dragonborn starts down a wide hallway, Indrid filling the air beside him.

Indrid snorts, “One instance of being punished for an attempted good deed is enough for me. Kepler strikes me as a kingdom that takes symbolism very seriously. They would have attacked me and claimed self defense, a pre-emptive strike against a dragon who declared war by returning a human to them. Never mind that said human was never consulted about the matter. And it is not as if those in the Jeweled Valley would have come to my aid, they already see me as a liability. It is working out, and Duck and I are very fond of each other. But if I survive this journey, I may look for ways to lobby for better practices going forward.”

“I have heard worse ideas. Here” he flourishes his hand at a large door, “are the dragon quarters. Should I prepare three other rooms, or will Duck be staying with you?”

“Please prepare three, just in case. He’s been sharing my sleeping quarters lately, but I do not want to force him too.”

Vincent bows and heads down the hall, claws clacking as he goes. The room is messy with disuse, but Indrid soon has a small fire going as he arranges the various pillows and blankets into a serviceable nest.

“Indriiiiiid!” Aubrey skids to a stop outside his door, waving a thick envelope with an orange seal, “Indrid, I found something! And it’s addressed to you.”

A glimpse at the future tells him the seal is Sylvain’s, and that Vincent has some disappointing news.

“Ah yes, that was left here in mail delivery twenty years ago. I do not doubt the princess sent it, but she enchanted the seal so it could only be opened by her.”

“Ummmm” Aubrey tips the envelope, revealing the letter inside, “I opened it.”

Indrid plucks the letter out with his claws, “I will read it once the others arrive.”

“How are you so damn fast?” Duck appears in the hall, Dani and Stern close behind him. Aubrey just grins as Indrid clears his throat and reads. 

_Indrid,_

_I am delivering this to you in such a circuitous way for a reason. A spell allows me to tell if the seal is broken; I struggle to be as certain as to whether we are being spied upon during our meetings. Hence my delivering this by my own hand once it arrived in the valley, rather than simply speaking my fears. Once you have read this, we can decide how to proceed._

_I don’t yet have all the information I need, but until I do, know this: If any dragonborn close to you are assigned human consorts, tell them to refuse or delay the pairing. It is not safe._

_Sylvain_

“She must have meant to tell me more on her next visit, never knowing that accident would prevent her.” Indrid hands the letter back to Aubrey. His eyes stay on Duck, “I wish she had given me even a sentence more of her suspicions. Now I have more questions than answers.”

“Me too.” Aubrey thumbs over the seal, studying it.

Indrid plasters on a smile. His friends have dealt with so much these last days, they do not need to share the new worried flooding his mind, “It is late, and the journey was long. No doubt we will think more clearly in the morning.”

They disperse, Vincent showing them to their rooms and falling into a conversation about human versus draconic literature with Stern. Duck is the only one who stays put. When he looks at Indrid, the casual smile he wore when bidding the others goodnight deepens, crinkling the corners of his eyes. 

“You want me to sleep in here?”

He looks so harmless, so kind. 

“You can if you wish. I asked Vincent to make up a room for you in case you wanted space.”

“Don’t mind stayin with you. To be honest, I’m gettin so used to sleepin with you, normal beds feel kinda odd.”

Indrid offers a tight laugh as he slinks inside the room, Duck following and hitting the lever to shut the door. The dragon sits by the nest, the human by his pack, which had been nestled into Indrid’s own at some point in the day’s travel. Indrid arranges the same four pillows ten times. Duck unfolds the map but looks through it. 

“That letter freaked you out too, didn’t it?”

Indrid adjusts so he can watch the knight yet keep his distance, “Yes. It, it brings a great many questions to mind. Did she know only one potential consort was a threat? Or was it more of them? And if so, what kind? To a friend of mine, the kingdom, me?” His tail twitches, “What if frightful truth she uncovered continued after her death and my exile? What if harm befell my friends and family while that letter gathered dust? What if my consort was sent for the same purpose!?” He gestures, scattering blankets and knocking over an unlit lamp. He catches his own words in the echo, and clamps his hands across his mouth.

“You think I’d hurt you?” 

Indrid almost says it would be fair pay back for the hurt in his knight’s voice. 

“I, I do not, that is” he clicks his claws together, “I have not since I first met you. Knights appearing without warning in a dragons lair seldom ends well for the dragon.”

“Don’t always end well for the knight.” Duck replies, tone flat. 

“I know. But do you deny you were taught how to slay us?”

“Taught to slay a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I plan to.” Duck crosses his arms and scowls at the fire, “I mean, fuck, Indrid, how could I have been planning to hurt you when I didn’t even know where I was going?”

“Maybe that was the plan! Maybe they hoped you would be afraid and kill me!”

“Right, because I’m just an impulsive human who stabs anything he don’t understand!”

“That is not what I meant!”

Duck shuts his eye, inhales slowly, “‘Drid, if you’re scared of me, I’ll leave. But if you’re scared of somethin else-”

The fears nesting in his chest hatch all at once, skittering through him.

“I am frightened. I am frightened by so much. This quest is dangerous not only to me but to all of you. There are so many bad futures, there were so many today; Joseph losing his footing and going over the cliff, my reacting to the orcs wrong and catalyzing an attack, you getting carried away from me forever by an avalanche-” his voice cracks, “you could all die, and it will be my fault. When I read the letter it seemed to confirm some even deeper fear that you, my knight, my love, were never meant to be someone for me to care for and to care for me, and instead were the final punishment.” He buries his face against a pillow in shame, expects to hear the door sliding open as the human leaves. 

A warm hand finds his cheek.

“‘Drid, I can’t pretend to know what it’s like inside your head. But I know what it’s like in mine, and I got some good guesses as to what it’s like for the others. We know the risks of this trip. We came, I came, because we don’t want you facin this alone. If somethin happens to one or all of us, it was our choice to put ourselves in the path of that danger. It won’t be your fault. And if someone out there thinks it’s my destiny to hurt you, they got another thing comin.”

Indrid nods meekly, chirping half in apology and half with relief. 

“You want some help unwindin before bed?” 

Indrid attempts what humans call “puppy dog eyes.”

“Yes, please.”

\----------------------------------------------

Duck never thought cleaning dragon scales would be one of his favorite de-stressing activities. It’s something about the repetitive movements and the gradual satisfaction of seeing the scales shine and the grit fall to the floor, about the way Indrid’s purr moves up and down like a piano scale as the human tends to him. 

He doesn’t do the world's most thorough cleaning tonight, since they both need to sleep. Just enough to bring the dragon down from his panic. Duck’s certain that’s what that was; he’s seen Indrid bump into the edges of it in the time they’ve lived together. While dragon entertaining the notion that Duck might hurt him stings, even during the argument some part of him understood that it wasn’t Indrid’s rational brain driving that conversation. 

Once Indrid is relaxed, Duck gathers up the strewn bedding and makes it into the rough shape of a nest. Pulling a large, black, woolen blanket halfway up the dragon earns him a sleepy, happy chirp.

It’s as he’s changing into his bed clothes that it happens. There’s a shift in the air and a muffled yelp of surprise. Spinning around, there’s no dragon to be seen. Just a far smaller shape struggling to get out from under the immense blanket. 

“It happen again?” Duck kneels down, lifting the edge and throwing firelight onto the scattered scales of Indrid’s dragonborn face. 

“Yes. This is getting rather…” Indrid’s eyes travel down his still-exposed chest, and that deep, possessive purr coils through the air. 

“Any idea how long you got?”

Indrid’s eyes glaze for a count of three, “An hour.”

“Can do a lot of things in an hour.”

The grin Indrid sends his way suggests they’re thinking of the same way to spend the time. Sleep will have to wait. 

“In that case” Indrid lifts the blanket higher in invitation, “why don’t you join me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking a short break on this story (about a week) to make sure the last few chapters are plotted right.


	7. Into the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck fulfills his duty. Indrid goes home.

Indrid pounces, but Duck’s ready for him, rolling them so the dragonborn lands on his back. He’s still larger than him like this, but it’s a far more even match.

“Enjoying the chance to toss me around, I see.” Indrid smirks, skating his claws along Duck’s thighs. 

“Uh huh. Gonna be enjoyin a lot more soon.” The human grabs the worn, black fabric of the shirt and tears it away. Indrid chips, blushing gold and pink, and tilts his hips up. Duck takes that as his cue to rip the weathered wrap away from his waist. 

“Fuuuck.” Duck needs a hundred years or a hundred hands to help him touch Indrid as thoroughly as he wants to. 

“If OH, if you want to take charge, I will not complain in the slightest.” Indrid bites his lip, sighs low and long as Duck runs his hands up his sides. 

“What I want” Duck leans his mouth close to Indrid’s ear, “is for you to tell your doting consort how to take care of you.”

Even more color fills Indrid’s face before he covers it with his hands, stifling a needful whine.

Duck bites his ear, slithers a hand between them, “Fuckin knew it, after all that talk the other day. You like the idea of me servin you.”

“It is embarrassing!” Indrid squeaks, “you are my beloved and equal, not my servant.”

“But I wanna serve you.” Duck kisses his neck, nips a patch of scales, “you’re my lord” he looks up, kisses Indrid’s chin, “my Indrid.”

“I...I want to fuck you. But’ he peeks between his fingers, “I will not last long. I have dreamed about this so much I may turn to ash and scatter the instant I am inside you.”

“Better get to it then.” Duck whips off his nightshirt, chuckles when Indrid starts purring the instant his pants are gone. 

“You are so, so very wonderful.” Indrid runs his hands across Duck’s stomach and up his chest, “every time I close my eyes, I see you like this, and every time I do I think I must have imagined how perfect you are. And every time, I am wrong.”

Duck catches one of his hands, brings it up to his cheek and holds it there. Indrid traces the curve of his jaw, murmuring, “some day, touching you like this will be as simple as breathing.”

The knight kisses the back of his hand, puts on his best bedroom eyes, “You ready?”

“Very. But first, there is something I wish to try.” He dips his thumbs between the crease of Duck’s thighs and hips, “May I demonstrate how much attention I paid?”

“To whAAaaatohfuck” His hips jerk as Indrid rubs his dick. The scales are smoother than he anticipated, their textured edges only noticeable when he grinds forward. Indrid’s gaze is locked onto where he’s stroking him, concentrating very hard.

“Like this, yes?”

“Guhuh” He hunches forward, forearms bracing on Indrid’s chest. Breath ruffles his hair as Indrid leans forward to nuzzle him once before dropping back down. Another firm press and curve, and Duck notices something.

‘Drid, are you tryin’ to do exactly what I did?”

He can practically hear him cocking his head, “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

Duck giggles into his chest, “Darlin’ you don’t gotta do that, just the general idea’ll doOOOyeahfucklikethat” he rubs his face into a patch of scales as Indrid tests a new pattern.

“I have never been with a human before, I was erring on the side of caution. For all I know, if I move in a different way, you will just climb off me and go to bed.”

Duck reaches blindly for his cheek, ends up stroking his jaw, “Sugar, a fuckin act of the gods couldn’t get me off you right nowAHHnnhey, gettin your hands full are you?” He teases as the free hand moves from his thigh to grope his ass.

“Mmmmmm this is so lovely, it rounds out the shape of you perfectly. If you are amenable, I’d like to fuck it.”

“Right, right now?”

“No, when we have more time to savor it. I have other plans for right now, right after…”

“AH, fuckyesfuck, yes, darlin’ please keep doin that I’m so fuckin close.”

“I know. Just as I know you will cum-”

“FUuuck, fuck, _‘Drid_.” 

“Now.” The dragonborn rubs him through it with a self-satisfied purr, Duck’s moans tinged with laughter as he does. 

“It is nice to use foresight for something so gratifying.”

“Uh huh” Duck pants, shifts up to kiss him properly before trailing his lips along his jaw. Reaching between them and trailing his fingers along a rigid, bumpy shaft until his thumb swipes sticky liquid from the tip gets him a deep purr. Indrid’s cock is tapered, narrow at the top and wider at the base, three bumpy ridges curving around and up it to join at the tip. He has no idea how it’ll feel inside him and he cannot _wait_ to find out.

He keeps eye contact as he sits up and shuffles back on his knees, Indrid’s pupils turning his eyes near-total black when he teases the head of his cock against his entrance. 

“You like that, darlin?”

A nod, the purr growing in volume.

“You wanna fuck your loyal consort?”

The purr turns to a whine as he nods again. 

Duck sinks onto the tip, moaning when claws instantly dig into the meat of his thighs. Another two inches brings on a simultaneous gasp. 

“Tight, so tight, ohgoodnessit’swonderful.”

“No fuckin kiddin, feels bigger’n it looks.”

“S-should I stop?”

“Nope, guessin this is another side benefit of havin a human. And don’t forget” he leans forward, trapping Indrid against the floor by his shoulders, “I’m the one callin the shots right now.”

“Ohhhhhhh” Indrid tries to wriggle free and can’t, “oh that is exquisite, hold me down just like this while I fill you.”

“You got it, darlin.” He works his hips, sliding further before the next change in girth gives him trouble.

“Fuck, c’mon”

“Dearest, you do not need to, this is beyondOH, incredible.”

“Fuck need, I _want_ to take the whole thing.” He growls, wiggling his hips back and forth to fill the air with slick, wet sounds and the unending purr of his dragon.

“Duck I, I’m-OHhnnn” Indrid arches, claws on his toes scarping the ground. 

“That’s it, lemme ride you _fuck_ , there it is, ohfuckinfuckme” He gets the flared bit in, only for Indrid to buck and writhe.

“Yesssyesyes.” Claws clamp down on his hips and ass as Indrid cums, Duck holding him down as requested. The feeling warmer than he anticipated, and far more than he’s used to. When he starts getting full he tries to sit up only for Indrid to grip harder.

“Good little knights stay and take it all.” It’s a growl, one he answers with his own as he collapses down to kiss Indrid, the dragonborn licking into his mouth when it goes slack at the final pulse. 

Indrid switches to hugging him as he pulls off, purring and rubbing his chin on the top of his head. The oozing warmth down his leg is odd, to say the least. 

“I desperately want to lick that off.” Indrid watches the rivulets. “I have no idea why.”

Duck rubs his cheek, “Some time when we got a more elaborate bath set up, let you lick me clean and before _actually_ gettin clean. Not sure I wanna be cleanin up dragon cum and spit in that little tub.”

“Fair enough.” Indrid’s pupils may as well b heart-shaped for how he’s looking at Duck.

The knight kisses his forehead, “Honored to be your first human.”

“And my last. No one can compare. Or, if they can, I have no interest in discovering them, because they are not you. My Duck, as perfect and flawed as a rough diamond and twice as beautiful.”

“You sure you weren't trained as a bard and not a seer?” Duck rolls off him, tugging a nearby blanket around them. 

“Positive. You just make me poetic and flowery. If I am free-”

“When” Duck takes his hand, “when you’re free.”

Indrid smiles, nods slowly “when I am free of the curse, I will paint and draw you so often my hands will be able to do so in my sleep.”

“Just keep any nude ones in the bedroom.”

“Nonsense, I shall keep them in my study.”

“Deal.”

Indrid kisses him, toothy but gentle even as he nips his lower lip, “Deal.”

\-----------------------------------------

“We live here now. That’s it. We’re never gonna leave this library” Aubrey groans, face down on a large oaken desk. 

Dani makes a noise of agreement, a small vine turning the page of the book in front of her. 

“At least Joe’s enjoyin himself” Duck mumbles through the book open on his face. He’s on his back atop Indrid, who’s curled up asleep in front of the fire. 

“I just like bestiaries.” The other knight picks up book of indecipherable scribbles, sets it down and sighs, “right now I’m looking for more about the human consort system.”

“Modern history would be a better bet” Vincent ambles in, turning slightly blue when Duck glances down at him (“I think his crush on you is rather charming” “do all dragonborns have a thing for chubby shorter than average guys?”)

“Isn’t it, like super old?” 

“Not in dragon years, Lady Little. It began about a hundred and fifty years ago, fell out of practice, and then was restarted about, hmm, thirty years ago?”

Indrid sits upright with a chirp, “Where are the marriage records for the Jewel Valley?”

“Genealogy.” Vincent points to a row of shelves and everyone, save for Indrid, hurries down it. Duck spots the most recent volume on a high shelf and Aubrey summons it down. When they return it to Indrid, the dragon flips through it with the tip of his claw. 

“Here, you see these red “H”s? Those indicate a marriage or pairing off with a human consort. A blue H is when the human was there for protection only.” He keeps one claw on the page, turns until he comes to a list of what appear to be names and dates. 

“Death records. Notice anything?”

“Can’t read draconic, but those sure as hell look like a lot of the same marks from before.”

“They are.” Indrid flips back and forth between the two pages, “at a guess, for every ten dragons or dragonborns who received a human, eight are now dead. Far too high a number to be a coincidence. I, I saw this in the futures but I cannot believe it.”

“So Sylvain was right. There was something sinister going on.” Aubrey takes Dani’s hand. 

“Is” Stern points at the dates on the marriages page, “some of these are recent. And Duck’s only been with Indrid for about half a year.”

“Vincent.” Indrid’s voice is quiet, “when was the last time you saw any of our kind?”

“The clerk comes once a month with updates from the valley, and the mail carrier every day in the warmer months and once a week in the snow.”

“Who beyond that?”

Vincent opens his mouth. Closes it, thinks, and then his eyes widen, “No one since midsummer, a mid-level duke, if I recall.”

The dragon slams the book shut, “We need to get to the valley. Now.”

\-------------------------------------------

The Jeweled Valley lives up to it’s name, and Duck understands why every hundred years or so some human kingdom gets it into it’s head to attack it. Gems jut from walls, stud the ground, even nestle, visible and tempting, between the roots of hardy mountain trees. There are so many and so varied in color that as they walk a rainbow reflects off the black of Indrid’s scales. 

The valley is also completely empty, and the dragon darts from place to place, growing frantic when his trills and calls of hello go unanswered. 

“Our numbers were low when I was exiled but this...this cannot be by accident. And all the while I was so busy keeping an eye on my own little corner of mountain that I didn’t not see it coming. I, I could have stopped it. I should have.” He slumps onto the ground.

“Far as I’m concerned, if you’re gonna toss your seer out on his own for bein cursed, that seer ain’t responsible for lookin out for you anymore.” Duck rests his hand on Indrid’s side.

“They never visited, never sent word to me, even in the beginning. I was so alone I just assumed their silence came from the same source it always had. Not, not this.”

“I mean, if no one’s here, that means Sylvain can’t be, right?” Aubrey looks at Stern and Dani, both of whom shrug. Indrid shuts his eyes, then groans. 

“She may be. I cannot see it clearly, something keeps changing, but we need to keep moving to that blue door over there.”

When they reach the door, Indrid draws a series of runes on it with his claw. It slides open, revealing a tunnel, decorated in ornate, golden tiles. 

“The treasury. It’s our best chance. It also presents several problems. Namely, it is built for dragonborns alone, so I cannot fit in it and thus cannot follow you. The treasury is also enchanted; it’s a moving maze, and only a select few now how to navigate it effectively. I was a prince and they never even told me.”

“Great.” Duck mutters. 

“I will wait here for the four of you. Try not to get separated, and keep going until you reach the center. It will not be easy, but there are many futures where you succeed.” He smiles “this does not surprise me. You are each clever and brave. But please, be careful all the same.”

“At least we’ve got light” Aubrey’s hand catches fire, illuminating the tunnel. 

“Indeed. Oh, Duck, come here a moment.” He leans down, cups the knight’s face with one finger, “If you should meet others in that tunnel, play along with what they think and do exactly as they say. No matter what, and no matter how it goes against your own instincts. Your life depends on it.”

“Uh, okay? You sure I shouldn’t just stay here with you in case there’s trouble?”

“Positive. I will be fine.” He rests their foreheads together, “good luck, my treasure.”

\------------------------------------------

“Any idea how long we been at this?”

Stern pulls out a bronze pocket watch, holds it into the light, “Nearly two hours.”

“Uggggggh” is the unanimous reply. 

“Annnnnd there goes the freaking floor again.” Aubrey groans as the ground begins twisting and shaking, “maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll point us the right way.”

“Or it’ll--watch out!” Duck leaps to the left, Dani pulling Aubrey to the right as Stern stumbles alongside her, narrowly avoiding the massive stone spikes jutting from the floor and dropping from the ceiling. They slam together like jaws, cutting Duck off from the others. 

“Everyone okay over there?”

“Yeah! You?”

“Can’t see shit but otherwise fine. I’ll, uh, I’ll see y’all on the other side. If you find Sylvain, come find me next.”

His progress is far slower after that, feeling along the wall and edging his feet along the ground in case there’s a drop. At this rate, he’ll end up like those giant cave salamanders he’s read about; pale and blind but able to navigate perfectly in the dark. 

When light slices into the tunnel up ahead of him, he winces a moment before hurrying towards it. There’s no horde or other treasure waiting for him; just a stone room with a large table and a dozen knights, all of whom turn to look at him. When they draw their weapons, he remembers Indrid’s warning. 

“Uh, hail and well met? I, uh, I’m real fuckin lost and was wonderin if you knew how to get out of here.”

“How did you come to be here in the first place?” The knight closest to him, dressed in white while the others are dressed in blue, steps forward. 

“I, uh, came with my dragon. I’m a knight consort.”

“Ah!” the blades are all re-sheathed, “in that case, you’re most welcome! Come in. And pray tell, what is your name?”

“Sir Duck Newton.”

The white knight nods and one of his seated companions flips open a black book. After a moment they frown and look up, “there’s no record of a Newton.”

“I’m from Kepler, does that help?”

“Ah, yes, that explains it. Kepler chose their own knight to offer before we could suggest one for them. Something about you being born under auspicious stars.”

He sighs, “Yep, that sounds about right. Sorry for messin up your book keepin.”

“No matter, you are an honorary member of our order all the same, and today we can make it official” He taps his insignia. Duck coughs into his arm to hide his reaction; it’s the symbol of the assassin who went after Indrid. 

“I don’t suppose y’all know what happened to the city. My dragon was real confused when we got here and found it empty.”

“A fair question. Come, walk with me and I shall explain.” 

He falls into step beside the knight, a half dozen more following behind him. 

“The order of Incortilon Acti believes in creating a more peaceful world. The trouble is, many kingdoms and cultures are predisposed to violence and aggression. Areas such as the Arach Mountains and the surrounding kingdoms are at a double risk of such things because of how many different kingdoms are jostling with each other; all the kingdoms of humans, the dragons and dragonborns, the orcs, and even the wargs. A great deal of potential conflict. And we know also that kingdoms are most likely to do something rash when they feel their power is slipping, either through a loss of resources or through a loss of population. The dragonborns fell into that second category. Which is why we re-introduced the idea of the consorts, though some kingdoms were...slower to take it back up. Kepler was one such place.”

“You were hopin the consorts would, uh, help with the population somehow?” He knows it’s a nonsensical idea, but he’s dreading the other, more likely explanation. 

“Yes. By reducing it even further. You see, we ensured that members of our order were chosen to be the consorts. They would play their role for a time and then...they would remove their dragon or dragonborn from the equation. After all, the dragonborns were often much older than their human counterparts; dying in their sleep, being injured while traveling and falling to their deaths, such things do happen.”

Duck keeps his eyes on the ground to hide the mixture of disgust and rage creeping up his face. 

“Of course, we could not wipe them out completely; that would draw unwanted attention to the order. Some were not given human companions, some were put under a spell to serve us, and others were given companions who were instructed to let them live. Often those were dragonborns on the outskirts of the kingdom, ones who would not immediately notice the lack of company from their own kind. The plan also allows us the resources to finance the next stages of our mission, as human consorts automatically inherit their dragon’s horde.”

“What’s, uh, the next stage?” 

The white knight smiles, “I mentioned many kingdoms in this area, did I not? They all need to be brought under our control. For the greater good of the world.”

He fights to keep his voice neutral. 

“Kingdoms like Kepler, since they didn’t let y’all pick who got assigned to Indrid?”

“Correct. But that does not matter. After all, today we will welcome you into our order and you will complete the task we need you to.”

They round a final corner into a courtyard, at the center of which is a large, black shape, bound to the ground by chains. It lifts its head just enough to regard Duck with resigned, horrifyingly familiar red eyes.

“Today, Duck Newton, you will slay your dragon.”


	8. Strike True

“Holy fuck.” Aubrey stares at the endless, cascading mounds of treasure, “we found it.”

“Great. Except we don’t know what we’re looking for in all this.” Stern runs a hand through his hair. 

“I’m going out on a limb and guessing Sylvain isn’t just wandering around. Maybe a crystal coffin situation? That happens sometimes.” Dani takes a step and sinks up to her knee in coins.

“That’s not a bad guess. Hmm, I remember reading about a sorceress who once suspended herself in amber…”

“She’s here.” 

They both look at Aubrey, who’s now picking her way across the first hill of treasure. 

“I don’t know how I know it but I just...know it. And since we’ve got literally nothing else to go on, I’m going this way.”

Long ago, Dani traveled with her family to see the great dunes near Refuge. Climbing through the treasury makes them seem as easy to summit as her front steps. 

They grab, steady, and pull each other along the mounds, Aubrey’s senses their only compass. There’s still no sign of the back of the room, and while she knows it’s not physically possible, the potential for it to go on forever fills her with new forms of dread. 

Then she bumps into her girlfriends back, Aubrey staring straight down. 

“Here. Right here. We’re close I, I think we need to dig.”

Their knees sink into the metal. Dani scrapes the layers aside, summons a vine to aid her. Stern does his best to sort, stopping to examine anything that looks promising. And Aubrey digs like a woman buried alive, gold and silver tumbling around her. In the dim of the cave, her eyes glow orange. 

“AhHAH!” She plunges her hand down, brings it up and opens her palm. In it sits a crystal the deep orange of a sunset. 

“That’s her?” Stern crawls closer, “I mean, we’re dealing with magic, but this seems like a stretch even for that.”

“It’s her. I know it’s her.” Aubrey brings the gem close to her face, cradling it in her hands, “it’s okay. You can come out now. Here” sparks of magic leap between her fingers, “I can help.”

Silence. 

The crystal shudders, then roars with the light and sound of star’s heart, the trio clamping their eyes shut and Stern throwing his hands over Aubrey’s ears when she refuses to move to cover them. 

A new rockslide of gems as a fourth figure appears on the pile with them. When they raise their head, Aubrey gasps and Dani swears her eyes must be damaged by the light. But no, the woman sitting across from Aubrey has the same curly dark hair and spry of freckles, the same color skin.

Sylvain reaches out, touching Aubrey’s cheek. 

“Hello, little sister. It seems I’ve been gone much longer than intended.”

\------------------------------------------------

Duck weighs his options, wondering if the world has enough miracles in it to--just this once-- help him lie well enough to save them both.

Indrid glances at the other knights, “I know what is to come. May I have a final word with my knight before it does?”

The white knight nods, whispers to Duck, “He will no doubt plead his case. Stand fast, brave sir Duck.”

With as slow steps as he can manage, Duck goes to the dragon. As he kneels before his face he sees the chains pinning him to the ground at lined with short spikes on the underside, meaning Indrid would risk death in trying to free himself. 

“It’s gonna be okay” he whispers, not daring to touch him, “I can-”

“Do you remember my instructions to you a few hours ago?”

He’s going to be sick. 

“No, you can’t men that. I ain’t playin long to the point of hurtin you.”

“You must.” The same resignation in his tone as in his eyes. 

“Indrid-”

“I knew this would happen, even as I bid you all good luck. If I did not fall into their trap, draw their attention, they would have discovered you all and ruined our chances. They also killed at least two of you then and there, though who it was kept changing. And if you do not do as they ask now, or try to free me, they will kill you without a second thought.”

“There’s gotta be another way.”

“No” a sad shake of the head, “in all futures, it is a choice between the two of us; one lives, the other dies.”

“What kind of bullshit future is that? And what kind of choice, ‘Drid, for fucks sake you’re askin me to kill you. I don’t want to kill you” tears well up and he blinks them back, “I’m your knight, I’m supposed to protect you. Take care of you. Please.” He sets his hand on Indrid’s face, “why are you doin this?”

Indrid meets his eyes, “Because I would choose your life over my own every time.”

Understanding finds his heart like an arrow. He nods. 

Just before he stands, Indrid murmurs, “Just behind my frill would be best. My scales are thin there and you will sever my spine with one blow.”

“Right.”

He unsheathes Beacon, the other knights sending up a cheer. Takes up his place at Indrid’s flank, eyeing the arc of his swing, gauging how much force he’ll need. While his face is stoic, Indrid’s sides rise and fall swiftly, his wings flutter in their bonds.

“You sure about this?” He’s close enough to his ear that he knows only Indrid hears the question.

“I have made my choice.” 

“Yeah. You have. And I’ve made mine.”

He swings the blade forward. 

The crack of metal on metal pierces the room, a fracture appears in Beacons right side. He brings the blade up once more, throws all his strength behind it. 

The chain trapping Indrid’s front falls the floor an instant after the halves of Beacon hit the stone. 

“What are you doing?” The head knight shouts as a dozen weapons are drawn. 

"Standing" fast.” Duck grabs his shattered sword, one half in each hand, “and if y’all got any sense left, you’ll stand the fuck down.”

They all charge at once, the fastest two reaching him at the same time. He ducks, slices the Achilles of one with the jagged metal jutting from the hilt, whips the tip of the damaged front half around the others knee, bringing them both to the ground. The third is on him before he can grab new weapon, blade of his dagger running straight through Duck’s shirt and threatening to pierce the chainmail beneath it. 

A screeching hiss, a scream of pain, and the other man is gone.

Indrid, frill up and wings bloodied but free, has wriggled one hand from it’s chains.

“Being a noodle has it’s uses.” He drops the pommel of a new sword into Duck’s hand just as four more attackers reach them. Duck holds them off long enough for Indrid to tear and thrash the rest of himself loose. 

A mace catches Duck in the belly and he skids across the floor, scrambling to his feet as a wall of black scales slides in front of him. 

An arm still holding a mace hits the corner a moment later. 

“As you all seem hellbent on seeing me as a monster, allow me to indulge you.”

Two more knights slam into the wall, and there’s the telltale sound of another running away. This is followed by the worst noise Duck’s ever heard. 

Indrid shrieking in pain. 

Duck vaults his tail, finds the white knight with his sword buried in Indrid’s side. Before Duck can do anything else, Indrid hisses, grabs the man, and hurls him across the floor. 

“D-double armored there” he wrenches the weapon loose, “not as bad as it could have been but that blade was very sharp.”

Their attackers have all halted, waiting for their leader to get to his feet.

“Kill them both. I will summon the others.”

“Fuck” Duck takes a protective stance in front of his dragon. 

“Think again!”

Aubrey appears at the mouth of the hall, hands blazing. 

“Am I seein things?”

“You are seeing Sylvain. Who is more a person than a thing.”

Magic ripples through the air, and when it fades all the remaining members of Incortilon Actie are immobilized by orange chains, vines, or both. 

“ Your highness” Indrid bows as they approach, “it is very nice to see you alive.” 

Then he lists to one side, stumbling and slumping against the wall. As the tunnel vision of battle clears, Duck sees the extent of the damage. His wings are torn, his wrists and ankles bleeding in huge gashes, two half circles of gouges from the spikes on his lower half, the wound in his side the deepest but far from the only place a weapon found him.

Duck collapses in front of him, holding his face, “It’s okay, it’s okay, we got Aubrey and Sylvain now, we got healers, just hold on.”

“Duck?” Aubrey glances at him from where she’s closing the wound near his tail. Her face is grim. 

“No, fuck that, it’s gonna be fine, I saved you, you saved me, day is saved and all that shit and you are not fuckin dyin on me now.”

“I did say there were only two possible outcomes.” Indrid smiles weakly, “my brave, stubborn knight.” He nuzzles closer, blood staining Duck’s clothes. 

“No, there ain’t. Because fate is fuckin bullshit, and because I aint done chewin you out for tryin to make me fuckin kill you and because, because”

Indrid’s eyes are shut, his breathing shallow.

“Because I love you.”

When there’s no reply, Duck tips forward, burying his face against his scales. He could be sobbing or weeping softly, he can’t tell, the only sound he cares to parse is whether Indrid is breathing, whether his heart is beating. 

This is why he does not notice the hum of swirling, black and red magic until it stings his face. Turning, he finds a woman he does not recognize materializing in the cave. There’s only one person it can be. 

When the Quell steps towards him, he holds Indrid tighter, “Uh uh, you done plenty to him.”

“Yes. Which I come to undo now.”

She waves her hand and that same shimmer appears, Indrid’s dragonborn form slumping in Duck’s arms. 

“Big fuckin whoop! It don't help much to break a curse when he’s, he’s-”

“Duck?” Indrid groans, the wounds on his body shrinking as he shifts in his arms. 

“He will be exhausted for a few days, but he will live. An apology. For my anger all those years ago.” The wounds close one by one, until the dragonborn is bloodstained but whole.

“I felt you awaken.” The Quell holds out her hands to Sylvain, “for years there was no trace of you in the world and then it all burst forth as the sun through winter clouds.”

“My love, I’m so sorry.” The princess kisses her hand, “and I have much to explain, as do you.”

“Not to put a damper on things” Stern helps Indrid and Duck stand, “but could we do all that somewhere warmer and less gory?”

Sylvain and the Quell trade a smile. Then the cave shifts, wobbles, and spins until the stony ceiling is replaced by the worn, welcoming beams of Amnesty Lodge.

“Whelp, that’s about the strangest fuckin entrance we ever had here.” Mama stares at them, eyebrow raised, before capturing Aubrey and Dani in a hug. 

“You're okay!” Barclay scoops Stern into his arms, spinning him about and dragging him into a kiss. When they break apart, the cook sees Duck.

“Oh fuck, Indrid. Is he-”

“He’s alive, barely, and he’s had a real fuckin bad day.”

“C’mon, I can get him in the room nearest the kitchen so he can rest.”

Duck watches them disappear down a hallway, sinks into an offered chair with his mind elsewhere. 

“You shouldn’t have blamed him.” Sylvain sits beside the Quell, “he did nothing wrong. Indeed, the reason I did not return to you was my own spell backfiring; I meant only to form a protective barrier, not reduce my whole being to a small gem. In my defense, I was falling fast towards a roaring river, which is not ideal for spellcasting. I washed up on the shore some time later and was mistaken for no more than a piece of treasure to be shut away in the city horde.”

“But, like, how come no one ever told me you were my sister? Are my parents even mine?”

“Of course they are, as they raised you. More to the point the king and queen of Kepler cannot produce an heir of their own, and so adopted me when I was a baby, the beloved child of a lord and lady of their court who were not permitted to refuse their majesties. Why they did not do the same to you, I can only guess. Perhaps they feared losing you too, or made other plans for the kingdom.”

“That bein said, I’d bet my hat that brotherhood was targetin you because they were afraid you’d be named heir anyway. Or they were just scared of your powers.” Mama sits down on Aubrey’s left, the younger woman resting her head on her shoulder. 

“That tracks with what the one fella kept sayin: they want to be the ones pullin all the strings. Someone like Aubrey would be pain in the ass for them.” Duck turns to the Quell, “how come the spell kept crackin?”

The sorceress shrugs, “My resolve and anger wavered when I suspected my love may still be alive. That anger was the core of the spell. The moments when it weakened most, the curse lost some of it’s power.”

“So it, uh, it didn’t have anythin to do with me lovin him?”

She shakes her head, “That is one of the oldest curse breakers in the world; I would not leave such an easy loophole in mine. But that does not mean your love for him is not true.”

They talk awhile longer, but Duck’s focus can only stay in the room so long, and he excuses himself.

In the bedroom nearest the kitchen, Indrid lays curled up in bed, chirping now and then in his sleep. Duck strokes his hair, studies the way his face looks in the dim light. 

Red eyes flicker open. 

“Just me, darlin. Go back to sleep.”

“I shall, but there is something I wish to ask you first. And no” a weak, playful smile, “it is not for your hand in marriage. There will be time for that yet, and I’d rather do it in a happier setting.”

Duck takes his hand, “Well, if you ain’t poppin the question, what do you wanna know?”

Indrid grins up at him, “There will be so much space at home now that I am like this, and we ought to add at least a little something back into it. How do you feel about getting a cat?”


	9. A Fairytale Ending

Kepler shines celebratory blue and gold, the streets lined with streamers and banners bearing the insignia of the kingdom alongside that of the Jeweled Valley. It’s not every day one of it’s citizens weds a prince. And it’s all the more enjoyable for not having to be present for the arguments that went into creating the union.

The first was between the long-lost princess and heir and her adoptive parents. While she commended them for allowing Aubrey to grow up away from the dangers of the throne, she had more than a few words regarding their overall approach to governance and their willingness to turn a blind eye towards the machinations of a certain secret (but not always subtle) order.

The next was between Indrid and half the palace at Kepler over the assigning of an unwilling knight as his consort. It came to light that it was members of Incortilon Acti who lobbied for him as the choice, fearing his prophesied saving of Kepler would interfere with their plans. At best the assumed he'd be trapped in a cave, at worst they assumed he'd be eaten or ripped in two. 

Indrid then argued with the remaining dragonborns in the valley who insisted he come back and rule as their king, as his parents were both dead. Indrid lost half the battle and was crowned at the first snowmelt. But he was able to stay in his home, with his knight, rather than return to the valley, and immediately set about appointing various advisers and ambassadors to run things in his stead. He would act as seer, but for the entire region when possible.

The prince is currently engaged in yet another argument, but he’s not losing this one. 

“Darlin, we don't have much time before the weddin feEEast, oh fuck, nevermind, fuckin insatiable dragonborn.”

“You started it, sweet one.” Indrid grins up from between his legs, mouth smeared with slick and the gold of his own cum. The knight had shoved him against the door the instant they reached home, kissing him as the dragonborn spun them, hooked his legs around his waist, and fucked him so eagerly broke off a doorknob. Neither bothered to disrobe, even after he dropped Duck on his back on the bed. 

“Besides” Indrid’s tongue, still longer than a human’s, teases Dck’s cock, “I’m hungry now.” He shoves his face forward and his tongue in, growling all the while as Duck grabs at his horns and hair. He loves this for how it makes Duck sound, but there’s the added benefit of it stroking his possessive, protective impulses, the taste of them mingled together a reminder that Duck is his and his alone, that the most perfect being in the world let’s _him_ fill him up until he’s moaning.

He has plans for him, starting with pulling a flared, glass toy from a rack beneath the bed. A small enchantment has it dripping with lube, meaning the tip slips into Duck’s ss easily. 

“Fuck! Oh fuck yeah, you’re a fuckin genius darlin.”

Indrid pulls his head back, pushes the toy further, “Thank you, though in truth I am just greedy; I want you in as many ways as possible, and I want them all at once.”  
With that, he dives back down, the human practically riding his tongue the more the fucks his ss open.

“Shit, shit, ‘Drid, I’m real fuckin close.”

Indrid purrs in acknowledgement, curls his tongue, and digs his claws into strong thighs as the human cums. 

He wipes his mouth on his sleeve. They have to change clothes anyway, that’s half the reason they came back here between the ceremony and dinner. The other half is that Duck wore his jeweled cuffs and chains as part of his wedding outfit, knowing they’d stand out to Indrid alone as something more than finery. Indrid managed to be present during the vows, not wanting to miss a moment, desperate to see the happiness in Duck’s eyes when Indrid said, “I do.”

On the journey back to the cave, however, visions of the first time they’d used them, Duck spread out on the horde, hands trapped above his head in one of Indrid’s hands as he came in half-dozen times in the course of an hour. 

“Take off everything but those jewels you put on to torment me.”

“Yes, my lord.” Duck bows playfully, strips as Indrid yanks his robes off. When the human, gold harness criss-crossing his chest and emerald studded cuffs and collar glinting in the torchlight, goes to lay down, Indrid shakes his head.

“Rest your back against my chest, dearest.”

Duck flops against him, grinning, “you still got the crown on.”

“What? Oh, blast it all” He reaches for the black and red circlet

Wrn fingers stop his hand mid-air, “Nah, leave it be. Suits you, sweet king of mine.”

Indrid traces a claw along the bronze circlet, woven to look like branches, still nestled in Duck’s hair, “yours does as well. Your highness.”

“Blech '' Duck sticks his tongue out, “could get used to a lot of things; lovin a beast that could skewer me with his claw, gardening at high altitudes, that weird GORP Thacker keeps making. But I ain’t sure I’ll ever get used to bein called a king.”

“What shall I call you instead” Indrid strokes his neck just above the collar. 

“Yours.”

He chirps, blushing, and presses a kiss to Duck’s cheek.   
“Yes, you are mine, aren’t you. And I'm still a greedy dragon who wants as much of his new toy as he can get.”

“Ain’t exactly neOOOh” Duck arches as Indrid rubs his cock against his ass, “you sure we ain’t gonna be late?”

“We have more than an hour, and it's not as if they can start without us.”

“True. In that case” he shifts up slightly, reaches down to guide Indrid’s cock into place, “take whatever you want. It’s yours.”

“Mine” Indrid purrs, sinking into his ass the first inch, “perfect and mine.”

“UhhuhOHdamn, go a little slower, feels so fuckin good but this part always gives me trouble.” Duck wiggles on his cock, muscles tensing wonderfully as Indrid pets and paws him. 

“Whatever I want?”

“‘Drid, I would do a goddamn handstand for you right now if you asked, I love you so much, I wanna make you so happy _hoh_ shit.” Duck kicks his legs in excitement as Indrid’s tail drags against his folds, “like where this is goin.”

“Me too” Indrid pushes his tail inside and Duck groans, pumping his hips in time with Indrid’s thrusts, “my wonderful husband, so eager to serve me”

“You know it.” Duck manages a wobbly kiss on the lips. The harder Indrid fucks him with his tail, the more he bounces on his cock, Indrid tugging the chains and kissing his shoulders. When the human sinks all the way down, the dragonborn hugs him close, jerking his hips and biting the back of his neck.

“Mine, all mine, that’s it love, let me fill you every which way until you’re writhing in ecstasy, ohgoodness, that’s it, mmmmm” he ruffled Duck’s hair with his face, “I love feeling you cum while I’m inside you.” He thrusts up into him, still using his tale to wring the last of the orgasm from the human. When he cums his husband whines, one hand falling to his belly as he spurts inside him. 

“Now that feels all the right kinds of strange.”

Indrid purrs, words insufficient to show how much he loves doing this. Duck guides them down onto their sides, still linked together, Indrid taking his time pulling out so as not to hurt him (and to savor it as much as possible).

“We oughta make ourselves decent. The sooner we get to th weddin meal, the sooner it’s done and the sooner we can come back and I can tie you to the bed and fuck you with that new gift you got me.”

“You make a convincing argument.”

They bathe quickly, and as Indrid fusses with his garments (wings, horns, and a tail make even dragonborn ceremonial clothes difficult), Duck feeds Pine. She’s a forest cat through and through, fluffy and wild eyed, but she bumps his shin and allows him some head scratches before padding off to dinner. 

He turns at the rustle of robes. Indrid is leaning against the door, smiling at him, and knowing he’ll see this sight every day until he leaves this world fills Duck with a joy he never knew he could feel. 

“Ready to go, darlin’” He offers his arm to his king, his dragon, his love. Indrid loops his own through it.

“Of course, my treasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading. Up next is a story with a...bite.


End file.
